Between Dark and Light: A Decade of Love
by Sinnamon Spider
Summary: As Jack ferries Elizabeth between her island and her husband, the relationship between them grows into something no one could have ever foreseen. J/E.
1. Year One

Disclaimer: All recognizable characters belong to Disney.

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A/N: I've been working on this piece for a while now, while I took my first steps into the POTC fandom with my drabbles. Following chapters likely won't be as long. The premise is not the most original, I'll admit, but what is? Dedicated to everyone who took the time to comment on my drabbles – thank you, and I hope you enjoy something a little – okay, a lot – longer than you've seen from me yet.

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Summary: As Jack ferries Elizabeth Turner between her island and her husband, their relationship grows into something no one could have ever foreseen. J/E.

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**Between Dark and Light: A Decade of Love  
**By: Sinnamon Spider

**Year One**

* * *

"Mrs Turner! Mrs Turner!"

The call of a young boy floated across the sand and grass, and Elizabeth Turner looked up from her garden to see the boy bounding toward her. She set aside her basket of silky red tomatoes, watching him climb the slight hill where her little cottage sat.

Jeremiah Able, son of the tiny village's one and only shopkeeper, stood before her, seven-year-old face solemn in the awareness of his duty. In a slightly dirty, still chubby hand the boy gripped an equally dirty piece of folded parchment.

"Jeremiah," Elizabeth greeted him. He gave her a quick bob of his head. "Got a letter for you, Mrs Turner," he said, offering the parchment to her. "Just came into the shop. Captain Willand brought it in. Maybe it's from your husband!"

Elizabeth took the letter, but the wild script that scrawled "Elizabeth Swann" across the front fold was not the careful, steady writing of William Turner. And he would certainly not have referred to her by her maiden name, at the very least.

"Did the captain say who it was from?" she asked Jeremiah, who shook his blazing red head. "No'm," he said. "Just that he'd picked it up on his travels and that he reckoned it was for you, though it's got your old name on it."

"Yes, it has, hasn't it?" Elizabeth frowned, staring down at the letter, speaking more to herself than her mail carrier.

With a start she realized the red-headed boy was still standing there, patiently waiting. "Sorry, Jeremiah. There're butter tarts on the shelf in the pantry, take one for you and one for your sister."

"Thanks Mrs Turner!" The boy darted into her little house and came back out with two fat butter tarts cradled gently in his hands. "Be seeing you!" He disappeared down the sandy path, leaving Elizabeth alone with her mystery letter.

She looked at it again, not recognizing the strong, heavy hand that had dashed her maiden name across the paper. Breaking the simple wax seal that bore no crest or mark, she unfolded it, reading the same script that filled barely a third of the page.

_Mrs Turner;_

_Thought I'd give you a bit of a fright, calling you by your other name, but you could never be nothing but Elizabeth Swann to me, begging your pardon for your state of wedlock and the respect which it is due._

_Also thought you might be a trifle lonely on your little island, and missing the salt and sun and spray, not to mention dear William. I'll be in the area in a week, provided Willand gets this to you by the twelfth of the month, if you'd be interested in taking a little trip to see your wayward husband._

_Captain Jack Sparrow_

Elizabeth raced through the letter three times in quick succession, not sure what she was searching for in the brief message, but not finding it. She dropped the parchment to her lap.

It had been six months since she'd left the Black Pearl. Six months since she'd watched her husband sail away, captain of the Flying Dutchman. Six months since she'd had any contact with anyone other than the pleasant but admittedly boring inhabitants of the little village near her tiny cottage.

Six months since she'd seen the indomitable Captain Sparrow.

She traced a fingertip over the thick black ink spelling out the pirate's words, feeling foolish that she had never suspected the letter to be from him, and even more foolish that she had initially been shocked that he was literate. The man was clearly educated, that much was evident in his astounding vocabulary if nothing else. But a letter written in his heavy, careless-looking handwriting had shocked her with both its clarity and grace and its content.

He wanted to take her to see Will. Jack Sparrow, who she'd always thought nursed a secret desire for her, was willing to put his pillaging and pirating on hold for her, just so she could see her husband.

She was struck by his sensitivity, that he would think of her missing Will and being on the ocean, but it was more likely that he had spoken to Will and not devised this plan himself.

But his tone also struck her. He was brief and informative, albeit in his usual wordy and flowery way. Quick and to the point, the letter held no mention of how he was, what he was up to, or that he had even thought of her before this time.

She sat in the dirt for a few more minutes before folding the letter, dropping it into her basket and rising, dusting off her dress. "Don't be a fool, Elizabeth," she snapped aloud, irritated with her own feelings. "Why should he think of you?"

* * *

"Are you sure you don't need anything else, Mrs Turner?" Christopher Able, Jeremiah's father, looked sceptically at the small pile of goods on the counter. Elizabeth nodded. "I shan't be gone too long, I shouldn't think. Captain Sparrow has better things to do than be ferrying a woman all across the ocean." She double-checked her purchases.

Heavy boots sounded on the wooden porch of the shop and the door banged open. Elizabeth whirled around, staring at the doorway, her hand flying to her throat.

Captain John Willand nodded to her. "Sorry, Mrs Turner, didn't mean to startle you." He motioned vaguely in the direction of the coast. "Your ride is here."

Elizabeth fled to the window, eagerly searching for the _Pearl_. And there she was, rounding the bend in the coastline, full black sails billowing in the strong breeze. She couldn't make out any faces, but she watched the crew bustling around the deck with a familiar feeling in her heart.

"Strange looking ship," Able noticed, from behind her. Willand nodded. "Aye, Sparrow is a strange sort. Never quite sure of what he's about."

Able rested a light hand on Elizabeth's shoulder and she turned to face him. The man had an anxious, fatherly expression on his kind face, though he was barely ten years her senior. "Are you certain about this man, Mrs Turner? You don't want to be getting into any scrapes, do you?"

Elizabeth brushed him off, picking up the parcel he had wrapped up. "I'm quite sure, Mr Able. I know Captain Sparrow quite well and he is nothing if not trustworthy. He will take care of me, I've no doubt."

Willand took the bundle from her arms. "Right them, Mrs Turner, best not keep them waiting."

* * *

Briefly bidding goodbye to Willand, Elizabeth hurried up the gangplank, stopping just on deck to take in the familiar surroundings. She went unnoticed in the midst of the preparations, until a voice called out her name. "Miss Elizabeth!"

She turned to see Joshamee Gibbs striding toward her, as grizzled and cheery as ever. He caught her in a rough bear hug, which she returned happily. He released her. "Welcome back. We've missed you, bossin' us around and getting' us into trouble."

"Out of trouble, you mean," she returned. "The best ideas were always mine."

"Not all of them," a voice disagreed from above. Elizabeth and Gibbs looked up.

Captain Jack Sparrow stood balanced in the rigging, watching them. He climbed agilely down, boots making no sound on the deck as he landed light as a cat. Elizabeth suddenly had to grip the rail. "Jack," she breathed.

He strode over to the pair. He looked no different, but then he never did; same dark dreadlocked hair with his favourite hat perched on top, same tanned face never staying the same for more than a second, same brown eyes that smouldered at her from beneath dark brows. He wore the same brown trousers, blue coat, blue-grey vest, and tattered white shirt he always had. Jack Sparrow never seemed to change.

Elizabeth breathed steadily until she trusted herself to speak without gasping, which took far too long for her liking. "What do you mean, not all of them? When did you ever have a good idea?"

He chuckled. "So this isn't a good idea? Don't want to see your husband? Shall I have Willand take you back home?"

"No!"

His slight grin widened. "Oh. Well then, d'you not think this to be a good idea?"

She shrugged. "Is it of your own devising?"

He raised a hand. "On my honour."

She snorted. "No, then."

They stared at each other in silence before he laughed outright, motioning to Gibbs. "Did y'tell her how much y'missed her?"

"Aye!" Gibbs confirmed. They fell to laughing and joking, and Elizabeth felt more free than she had in months, but could not help but notice how Jack had deliberately refused to say that he had given her a moment's thought for half a year.

* * *

Gibbs had gallantly given her his berth, insisting that a married woman should not be hobnobbing with the rough crew of a pirate ship. She had taken her things into the tiny compartment, but being on the Pearl was too much for her to be able to sleep and in the dark of night, she pulled a dressing gown over her nightgown and slipped out onto the deck, crossing the ship to stand at the bow.

She leaned over the rail, watching the hull slice through the inky black water, the rush of wind comforting in her ears. She had missed the sea, just as Jack had noted in his letter.

Staring down at the water, she turned her thoughts to the roguish pirate captain; something, she noticed with chagrin, she was doing more and more. Jack Sparrow had never been far from her mind since he had rescued her from the bottom of the ocean nearly two years ago. He had been firmly in her thoughts as she and Will prepared for their wedding, and when it was cancelled because of him, she was absurdly grateful. Sitting in the rain as her groom was dragged off in chains, she had never been more thankful for Jack Sparrow, and her guilt had plagued her for weeks.

But nothing compared to when she had lost him to her own devices. Shackling him to the mast of the Pearl – she glanced back at it now, half-expecting to see ghostly versions of herself and Jack exchanging their last words – had been the hardest thing she had ever done. She had hissed at him that she wasn't sorry, steeling her jaw and hardening her heart, but every fiber of her being wanted to save him, free him, pull him into the longboat and flee, flee, flee…

She hadn't been ready for his reply, hadn't expected the finality and calmness with which he had branded her. "Pirate", he'd said, sharp and dark and irrevocable, and she had felt the word burn her, and she had turned and fled from his knowing eyes.

When Tia Dalma had raised the idea of retrieving him from the Locker, her heart had leapt and danced. Heedless of the danger, she had thrown herself into bringing Jack back from the dead, and her guilt at being his downfall warred heavily with the guilt that stabbed her every time Will looked at her.

She did love him, her bright-eyed blacksmith boy. She had saved him from the sea, taken care of him, teased him mercilessly, and fallen in love with him somewhere along the way. But when she had come to, wet and breathless on the pier, it was not Will's warm eyes that stared back at her, and then and there Elizabeth Swann understood how it was possible to love two people at the same time.

But it was Will she had stuck by, Will she had sobbed for when Jones stabbed him in the heart, Will she had married. It was Will she was now off to see, the husband she had been parted from for six months, and all she could think of was damnable, irascible Jack Sparrow.

"Missed it, didn't you?"

Speak of the devil. She didn't turn, but nodded. "I did," she said softly. "I've been sailing since I was a child. Being on land for so long was…frustrating."

Jack stood next to her, leaning over the rail and following her gaze to the dark ocean below. "You don't like your little island?"

When he was close, when she could smell the rum and spice, when she could feel his warmth and spark and danger, it was impossible to think of Will. It was hard enough to formulate sentences. "It's nice, I suppose. The people are good and kind and made me feel welcome, but they respect my privacy. The soil is good and the weather is lovely, but it's not…" She trailed off.

"Not home?" he finished for her. She nodded again. "No, it's not home." She turned to lean her back against the rail, gazing out over the quietly creaking ship. "This is home."

He was quiet for a moment. "The _Pearl_?"

She flushed and was glad it was dark. "The sea, I meant."

"Ah."

They stood in a not completely awkward silence, until Elizabeth turned to face him. He was dressed down, for comfort in the night, wearing only his trousers and torn shirt. His feet and head were bare, the wind tousling the loose strands that had escaped the twists of his dreadlocks. "Why did you write that letter, Jack?"

He looked at her, surprise colouring his face for a second before slipping away, like all his emotions. "Thought it was clear enough."

She resisted the urge to stomp her foot, frustrated with his short answers. Normally he wouldn't shut up. She was waiting for something; waiting to hear him say he needed to see her, waiting for his declaration, waiting for something concrete and tangible so she could shoot him down once and for all. "That's not really what I mean."

He shrugged easily. "As I said, I thought you'd be missing your dear William. Don't know why the two of you had yourself all resigned to not seeing each other for ten years. He can't step on land, but you can certainly step on the sea. Figuratively speaking, of course."

"Of course," she breathed. It was so simple, and her irritation washed away briefly, replaced with a foolish feeling. Why hadn't she thought of meeting Will at sea? Jones had been able to both bring people aboard the Dutchman and bring himself aboard other ships. It only stood to reason that Will could do the same.

She hated to think that she hadn't cared enough to come to such a simple conclusion. That she hadn't wanted to see Will at all.

"I gave you a while to come up with the idea, but you didn't, and your fool husband didn't. Both too busy feeling sorry for yourselves, I 'spect. So I fished your fish out of the ocean, told him to meet me just off the coast of Pelegosto in a month's time, and I'd bring you to see him."

The irritation flooded back. "So that was your reasoning?" He was being elusive and vague, and making it hard for her to do what was necessary.

He stared at her again, confusion brushing his eyes. "What else could I have?"

Angry now, she turned her back on him. "Nothing, I suppose."

Suddenly he was behind her, close to her, one hand at her waist, the other tracing her ear. She inhaled sharply, pressing against his warmth, interlacing his fingers with hers and flattening their joined hands against her hip. "Not proper for a pirate to tell a married woman that he misses her, is it?"

She turned in his arms, grasping the collar of his shirt. "And since when have you been proper?"

And then he was gone, pulled away, leaving her shivering in the cool night air, leaving only his voice ghosting across the water. "Since I'm left wiv no other choice."

She reached out for him involuntarily, and cursed her traitorous heart.

* * *

When he knocked on the cabin door in the morning, he was jovial and impish and back to normal, and they traded slight barbs as they made their way up to the deck. But there was something more to the tension that had always been between them, something that sparked now in a way it hadn't before.

With a whoosh, the Flying Dutchman surfaced from beneath the green water. The ship looked much better now – the last time Elizabeth had seen her, she had just started shedding her fishlike appearance and her crew had been no better. But now, she was resplendent with green and gold paint on her hull, pristine white sails, and a neat, if somewhat roguish-looking, crew. It seemed that Will ran a fairly tight ship.

Jack escorted her across the carefully linked gangplanks, refusing to allow her to swing over on a rope, ignoring her protests and threats. They met Will's father, now named first mate, on deck.

"Elizabeth," William Turner greeted politely. The last time they had been face-to-face he had killed James Norrington and while Elizabeth did not – could not – fault him for that, he clearly still felt badly about it. "And Jack. Come to see her off like an overprotective father, have you?"

Jack grimaced. "Hardly. She needs no protecting. I'm just fulfillin' me end of the bargain I've struck with your son."

"Bargain?" Elizabeth asked, alarmed. Jack only grinned. "Nothin' to be worrying your head about, I haven't traded you off or negotiated a parley. Will's just agreed to keep Barbossa off me back for a bit."

She had been wondering about Barbossa. The grizzled pirate captain had not been aboard the Pearl, although she wasn't surprised that the tentative accord between the two men had fallen apart after their mutual enemy was destroyed.

"Jack." She spun around at the sound of that voice, taking in the husband she had not seen for six months. The man she loved. The man she was faithful to.

He was dressed in the same dark shirt and bandanna she had seen him in last, the jagged scar of where his heart had been cut out still livid against his skin. He wore high, tight-fitting boots and dark trousers.

Her heart lifted and she was reminded yet again that she _did_ love him, that she had put aside her feelings for Jack and her fear and distrust and married him, that she had nearly lost him and with him her whole world – for if there had been no Will, how could there have ever been Jack?

She flitted across the deck on light feet, hitting him at full speed, and he spun her around. "Thanks, Jack," he said over her head. Elizabeth twisted in his arms. Some terrible, vindictive part of her wanted to see Jack's face, to see the despair and regret and anger and desire as he watched her and her husband.

She was disappointed. Jack merely grinned that enigmatic grin, the one that made her own face split in a smile every time, and tipped his hat. "Happy t'be of service, William. I'll be in the area for a time, just give a whistle if y'need me." He ignored the gangplanks and snagged a rope, swinging neatly and without any of his usual graceful clumsiness across the water and back to the Pearl. Elizabeth watched him until she could see him no longer.

She turned to look at her husband, who was watching her. He smiled brilliantly, without a trace of the jealousy he had once carried for the other man. Elizabeth wanted to hate him, for his foolish, trusting heart. She hated herself.

"He's a good man," Will said. "He found me and told me about you coming to see me. I don't know why I didn't think of it myself."

Elizabeth shoved Jack Sparrow to the furthest recesses of her mind, concentrating wholly on the man who held her close. "I don't know either. But now that we're together…" She smiled at him, and he winked. "Shall I show you the captain's cabin, Mrs Turner?"

* * *

She spent a glorious, carefree week on the Flying Dutchman. Freed from her service to Jones and Calypso, the ship was a beautiful creature, ever-tuned to the sea and wind, responding to the lightest touch, the slightest breeze, and Elizabeth found the Pearl challenged in her mind for favourite ship. But the Pearl was never out of sight, and watching her from afar, Elizabeth had a chance to compare the two ships.

They were light and dark. Where the Dutchman was a ship of the otherworld, the Pearl was a ship of the human world. The Dutchman was bright and ethereal, the Pearl was shadowed and solid. Neither could rise above the other, for they were too different, and each was stunning in her own right.

Much like their captains, Elizabeth mused. Where Will was the hero, the warm light that guided lost souls on the eternal oceans of the other side, Jack was the anti-hero, the cool spectre that slipped unseen through the wildest parts of the seven seas. Neither could rise above the other, for they were too different, and each was stunning in his own right.

As the sun began to set on the last day, Jack returned to the Dutchman to collect Elizabeth, who gave Will one last kiss. "I'll see you whenever I can, Liz," he said softly, and she nodded, following Jack back to the Pearl.

The sun slipped below the horizon and the Dutchman disappeared in a flash of green light. In the sudden darkness, the Pearl was alone on the open ocean, and Elizabeth was alone on her deck.

But not for very long. She heard the light touch of soft boots behind her. "Don't fret, love, he'll be fine."

She turned to face the pirate captain, who wore a guarded, careful expression. "I'm not worried," she said. She paused, and as he made to leave, she reached out, catching his arm. He pulled away quickly, but stayed, dark eyes unreadable.

"Why are you here, Jack?"

He changed tactics in a flash, as always, hiding jest and joke. "Would you like to be floatin' in the middle of the water, love?"

She stepped towards him, forcefully, and was equally amused and disappointed to see him step back. "Stop that. You know what I mean. Why did you stay, why didn't you just drop me off and disappear, like you always do?"

He shrugged easily. "Well, it's not so simple, love. Will has to come and go when he's called – "

"Called?"

"To ferry souls. They don't run on a schedule, y'know. So he would be needin' somewhere to put you when he has to run off to the other side, and that's where I come in." He looked out over the water and something else came over his face. She sidled closer. "Jack?"

"And I felt guilty." His voice was flat as he acknowledged the fact. "I felt somewhat responsible for separatin' you from him and him from you, so this is my way of making up for it. He ferries souls, and I ferry you."

She was stunned. "Jack Sparrow feeling remorse? Regret, even?"

He turned to stare directly at her and her knees weakened as they always did. "I don't regret a lot of things, Elizabeth Swann, but there are precious few and they're mighty big things."

"You shouldn't!" Her shock and even amusement was gone, replaced by anguish. She didn't want to be the cause of this man's regret – this man, so free and boundless should not have ties with anything negative. "What choice did you have?"

"Many. Coulda stabbed the bloody heart meself, but that'd left me with everything I wanted and you with no husband. This way, you may not have much of a husband, but it's better'n nothing."

"And what of what you want? You're still mortal, Jack."

He scowled at that, glaring out at nothing. "I don't need no reminders, thanks. I got what I wanted, though – Jones off me back, the Pearl safe and sound – eventually – and everyone happy as a clam. Mostly."

"Mostly," she echoed. He looked back at her, and a hundred different emotions swirled across his face. She stepped towards him again and was happier to see that he did not shy away. This was different from their last encounter on this deck. That had been fire and brimstone, heated words and hotter bodies, lust and desire warring with honour and duty. This was softer, sweeter, a rekindling of the slow, steady fire that had smouldered between them for as long as they could remember.

She stepped closer again. He held up his hands and she was reminded of when he had backed away and told her that one kiss was enough. "If anyone shouldn't have regrets, love, it's you. Don't make me one of 'em. You'll hate yourself in the mornin', and Lord knows I wouldn't want you to be blamin' yourself for somethin' that need never have happened."

"Jack," she said, her voice quavering, pleading for something she didn't want, yet could not live without. But he was firm and steady in the dark, and she hated him for becoming noble and decent when all she wanted was an excuse to lose herself in him. She had made him into a good man.

She had created a monster. And now she turned and ran from him, this man with his firm ideals and noble heart, who was denying her everything she wanted.

* * *

But he was a magnet, and she was pulled to him in the darkest part of the night, just before dawn broke. She slipped from her cabin, picked her way through the sleeping crew, and took joy in the light that glowed through the glass window.

He was seated at his desk, fine-boned hands skimming across a map, working with sextant and quadrant and his compass. She crept up behind him as he lifted the compass, both of them watching the red arrow spin until it pointed at her. He turned in confusion and she pressed a hand over his mouth.

"No regrets," she said, softly, and when he tried to pull away, she followed until he could resist no longer.

They tumbled together, man and woman, and when he hissed her name as he shuddered and shook in her arms, she could only cling to him to keep herself from flying apart.

For the first time in nearly two years, she was completely free of guilt.

* * *

The feeling lasted all the way through the morning. She had slipped from his arms and his cabin just before the sun rose, and now she stood on the deck, watching her familiar island grow larger and larger before her.

He escorted her right to her door, refusing her offer to come inside. "I'll be in these parts again in about a year's time, love, if you'd like t'see your husband again." His face was inscrutable again.

"So long?" she asked, forcing back the tears that threatened to spill. Another year without him. Without Will.

"Aye," he replied. "I'm off to China, got some debts owed to Mistress Ching, and now that piracy isn't comin' to an end, I find meself under some duress to pay off all the scallywags that are thirstin' for my blood."

She giggled despite the solemnity of the situation, and he winked at her, as mischievous as ever. He came at her suddenly, engulfing her in his arms, and the lighthearted atmosphere thickened. Elizabeth lost her battle with the tears, and they spilled over her cheeks. Jack tutted. "No tears, love, no tears," he admonished, wiping them away and leaving light smudges on her pale skin.

He left her on the ridge, watching him as he fell out of sight, and then watching the Pearl as she slipped around the bend of the island. She buried her face in her hands, feeling the loss of him more than ever.

And over the course of the next nine months, as the child within her quickened and shifted and grew, she dreaded his return more than ever.

* * *


	2. Year Two

Disclaimer: All recognizable characters and dialogue belong to Disney.

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A/N: This chapter is dedicated to Nytd and XxIcexX – thank you so much for your wonderful comments, and I hope you're enjoying these lengthy offerings, although this chapter is a bit shorter than last time.

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Summary: As Jack ferries Elizabeth Turner between her island and her husband, their relationship grows into something no one could have ever foreseen.

* * *

**Between Dark and Light: A Decade of Love  
**By: Sinnamon Spider

**Year Two**

* * *

The baby squalled, the sound echoing around the little cottage, and Elizabeth paused to wipe her hands on a rag before scooping up her son. He was not hungry or wet, and as soon as she had him in her arms, he stopped crying and beamed at her. She laughed. "Bothersome, you just want attention when Mum is busy, don't you?" She cast an eye at her dough, sitting in a white lump on the table, and bounced the baby gently. "Well unfortunately for you, Mum's got to get back to being busy, or there'll be no bread for supper." She tucked him back into his cradle, pausing to tap him lightly on the nose and smiling at the giggle that burbled from his little chest.

She had been breathless with fear when Miriam Able had cleaned off the red, shrieking newborn and gently laid him in her arms, as though the child would have a brand that read "Fathered by Jack Sparrow" across its forehead. And even now, after three months, she found herself searching her son's ever-changing face, looking for some evidence that would damn her to hell as an adulteress.

The baby had dark brown hair that curled in gentle ringlets, but this provided no answers. Her own hair was dirty blonde and stick-straight, so clearly the child had inherited his father's hair, whoever that happened to be. Will's hair was dark and curly, which lightened Elizabeth's heart until she realized that Jack's hair was almost the exact same colour, and she had no idea how it looked when not tightly bound in dreadlocks.

When he had first opened his eyes to stare at her, she had been shocked by the sight of grey-blue eyes – who in heaven did those belong to? Will's eyes were mahogany and warm, Jack's coffee-dark and glittering, and her own were more hazel, edged with green. Blue fit nowhere into the equation. But Miriam has laughed at her dumbstruck expression and gently explained that newborn babies always had bluish eyes, and that the colour would change gradually.

Now, his eyes were a bright chocolate brown and they crinkled in the corners when he smiled at her, which was often. His cheeks were plump and rosy, his nose was small and rounded and tipped up at the end, which seemed to be the only feature Elizabeth could identify with certainty; it was her nose, without doubt.

She sang a lullaby as she kneaded the dough, watching idly as her son waved his hands in the air, catching dust motes that glittered golden in the sunlight. She had never really considered motherhood, at least not in the last few years. When she was younger she had entertained visions of a brood of bright-eyed, curly-haired children, herself smiling and perfect in the background with Will as the loving and respectable husband. When she found herself on a whirlwind adventure with pirates and skeletons and fish-faced sea captains, she hadn't had much time for daydreaming and when she did, it wasn't about herself and Will and a gaggle of lovely sons and daughters, but rather herself and Jack Sparrow, alone together as they sailed the seas and where each escapade was greater than the one before.

She knew where babies came from, of course; she remembered a painful discussion with her blushing, blithering father when she was twelve, and a dry and somewhat frightening exchange with her governess at fourteen, when she had first gotten her courses. She had done the right thing and remained a virgin until her wedding day, unconventional as it was, and her first time was on a sandy beach with Will, tousled and gritty and enjoyable. She wasn't his first, she was certain; he was a commoner, after all, and the blacksmith and butcher boys were playing with the milkmaids and shepherdesses long before a well-heeled lady ever learned of carnal relations. Elizabeth had never considered herself a well-heeled lady until Will had whispered in her ear and she felt her face flame like a fire had been lit in her cheeks.

But in all of her imaginings, actually being a mother had never really come up. She had been worried, all through her pregnancy. What kind of a mother would she be; a pirate, a Pirate King, no less. A faithless wife. A motherless child.

But smiling, cheery Miriam Able had taken her neatly under wing. It was Miriam she had gone to with shaking hands and a whispered question. The older woman had nodded sagely and soon became a fixture at her pretty young neighbour's secluded cottage. Elizabeth, without a mother since she was seven, eagerly accepted the woman's motherly affection and sure advice.

And when Miriam had handed her son to her, tucking him securely in her uncertain arms, Elizabeth was floored. She was a mother. She was responsible for this little life, for guiding him and shaping him and keeping him from trouble and suddenly she felt the loss of her family as she had never felt before.

She had adjusted to child-rearing aptly, earning Miriam's approval, and after the first month, the other woman only stopped by every few days, checking on her little village's newest member and his quick, adaptive mother.

And now, even with all of her misgivings about his paternity, Elizabeth was hard-pressed to remember how she had ever lived without her merry little boy.

* * *

Jack had come to get her himself this time, not bothering to go through Willand, and as he climbed the sandy ridge up to her little house, he found himself anxious to see her, which was a new feeling. He had been anxious around women before, especially this woman, but normally for entirely different reasons.

He treaded water at her door for a good five minutes, feeling like a fool. As he fisted his hand to knock on the door, it swung open and he stumbled back, startled, and fell in a heap on the neatly swept dirt path.

"Jack!" Elizabeth sounded shocked, and he scrambled to his feet, offering her a bow that almost made up for his earlier clumsiness. "Lizzie," he greeted, but his voice trailed off when he saw the baby balanced on her hip.

She frowned at his sudden silence. "Jack?"

He could only gape, open-mouthed. Elizabeth looked no different then she had the last time he had seen her, just under a year ago, except for light shadows under her brown-green eyes that spoke of a few sleepless nights. No doubt she had been sitting up with this bright-eyed baby that beamed a toothless smile at him, reaching out to grab at the string of beads that swung in his hair.

"Who's the tyke?" he said, trying to keep his voice even. "One of the village babies? Getting a feel for motherhood, love?"

She snorted indelicately. "This is my son Willam, Captain Sparrow."

He tilted his head, feeling his eyes bugging. "Is it, now?" he replied, fighting harder than ever to put on an air of urbane disinterest. "So formal, Miss Swann?"

She turned away, beckoning him to follow her into the little house, and he used the time her back was turned to collect himself. When she faced him again, after putting the child in a beautifully carved cradle that sat in the corner, he was composed.

"I don't know whose baby he is, Jack, before you ask." Her voice was flat and matter-of-fact, as though she had already dealt with the emotions that had to accompany a statement like that, and he realized belatedly that she must have. All alone without husband or lover, Elizabeth had had to come to terms with the uncertainty of her son's parentage. He nearly reached out to her, but snatched the hand back. She gave no indication that she had noticed.

He crossed the floor to stare down at the baby, now sleeping soundly. Elizabeth stayed where she was, her hands twisting in her apron, her flour-smudged face watching him.

"I was with both you and Will, and there is nothing that has indicated whose he is, with any certainty."

"Except the nose," Jack corrected, glancing over his shoulder at her. "That's yours, to be sure." He walked back towards her, extending a dirty finger to tap her nose, but she dodged him neatly. He scowled at her. "What now, love? Do we spend our time being cold and ignoring each other? Or can we not get past what happened, and be the friends we've been for ages now?"

She laughed, low and mocking. "Friends, Jack? Can we be friends?" She shook her head. "I don't think we can. It seems to only be one extreme or the other for us."

It was his turn to laugh. "Love and hate aren't opposites, Liz, only different sides of the same coin."

She stomped her foot and he arched an eyebrow. "I have a son named after a man who may or may not be his father, Jack Sparrow. That is not coin I am happy to be trading in." But her voice broke and her anger dissolved and he caught her in his arms, stroking her hair. "I know, love, I know, but really, who knows aside from you and I? Do the people here treat you with scorn?"

She shook her head mutely.

"Does the tyke have a stamp that says "Property of Captain Jack Sparrow" on him anywhere?"

She laughed through her tears at that. "I thought of the same thing, although I didn't include the Captain part."

He gasped dramatically. "How could you wound me so, Liz?" She laughed again, and he chucked her lightly under the chin. "Now. Buck up, love, you've a handsome boy and whoever's he is'll be proud of him, and unless he has such a stamp on him, only you and I will ever know there's anything to be worryin' about."

She nodded firmly, swiping away the tears with defiance, gritting her teeth in an approximation of a smile.

"Now then!" His voice was bright, his eyes impish and snapping. "Shall we be off to see your fish, my dear?"

Elizabeth nodded again, picking up the satchel she had already packed, ready for him when he came for her. She carefully lifted her sleeping son, bringing an extra blanket to shield him from the cooler air on the water, and led the way from her tiny cottage.

* * *

Jack gallantly extended a hand to steady her as they made their way down the sandy ridge toward the harbour. "Seems I'm never to be rid of these William Turners," he commented lightly. "Couldn't you have picked a more excitin' name, love?"

She flinched and he grimaced. "I thought it best, considering…everything," she replied quietly. "Right, right," he agreed, too quickly.

The Peal came into view and Elizabeth gave a little shriek, startling William, who woke and began to fuss. She bounced him unthinkingly as she stared over his head at Jack, horror-struck. "What on earth happened?"

The beautiful main mast of the Pearl was gone, leaving only a shattered stump where it once stood, proud and full of rich black sails. Her remaining sails were shredded and torn, her paint chipped and gouged. She looked like she had wrestled the Kraken again, and Elizabeth was painfully reminded of that incident.

She forced it from her mind as Jack laughed unconvincingly, scratching his head. "Just a few mishaps, that's all," he said lightly, and she narrowed her eyes at him. "Complications arose, ensued, were overcome. You know how it is on the seas, Lizzie, sometimes y'run into a spot of trouble or two."

"A spot or two?" she echoed, taking in the damage. "Did you sail through another hurricane? Or two? Or five?"

"That was Norrington, not me," he reminded her sharply. "I'm not fool enough to risk my ship in a storm." They were onboard now, and Elizabeth cringed at the sight of the weary-looking crew. Even Gibbs, who spotted them and came over, looked tired and battle-scarred.

"Liz," he greeted her. He noticed the baby in her arms and arched a white brow. "Who's this? Bringing us some help to clean up the Pearl?"

She didn't laugh, though Jack did. "This is my son William, Gibbs," she replied. "He's a bit young to be of much use, but I can certainly lend a hand." Gibbs looked up from making faces at the giggling baby and frowned. "Now, then, that's not necessary, we've plenty of hands without making a lady work."

She didn't answer him, addressing his captain instead. "Jack?"

"Ah." The man was casting around for an escape route. Elizabeth deposited her son in Gibbs' surprised arms, and planted her hands on her hips. "Did you sustain the damage before coming to get me?"

He nodded, looking at her somewhat fearfully.

"Without enough time to send a message telling me you would be delayed?"

He shook his head, but started to speak. She cut him off ruthlessly. "You should have taken the time, then, Captain, and not further endangered your ship and your crew." She stalked off, snapping orders to the crew who found new energy and stepped to, those who had never seen her before staring after her with wide eyes.

Jack watched her whip his crew into shape, even going as far as to ask Cotton's parrot, perched on his master's shoulder as he steered the ship, how far away the next island with trees suitable for a new mast was. He looked at her son, who was laughing delightedly at Gibbs as the older man babbled nonsense at him. The first mate met his captain's eye and broke off mid-babble, but Jack only threw up his hands in defeat and walked off, muttering about madness and Pirate Kings and babies.

* * *

When the Pearl arrived in the cove just off Pelegosto, she was in much better shape. She had a new mast, neatly patched sails, and fresh paint on her decks and rails. But when the Dutchman burst from the waves, glittering and golden in the sunlight, Jack whimpered and ducked behind the new mast.

Elizabeth stifled a snicker as she and her son peeked around the mast, watching Jack stew about his beloved ship's condition. "Now Jack, you know Will won't judge."

The captain snorted. "Like hell. He's always looking for an opportunity to show me up, and now he's got one, all gift-wrapped."

Elizabeth tried to affect a stern face, but she lost the battle and began to laugh at Jack, who scowled at her amusement. "Really, it's your own fault. If you hadn't been such a fool and fixed the damage before you came to get me, she'd look just fine now. And don't forget that you only got _this_ far because of me."

"Enough, woman!" he cried, but his eyes were twinkling. "Begone with you! Go gloat with your blasted husband. Let him meet his boy, and stay off my ship!"

She laughed again and William laughed with her. Jack moaned and climbed into the rigging. Elizabeth made her way across to the Dutchman. Will was waiting for her with an eager expression that changed to confusion and then wide-eyed bewilderment at the sight of the baby in her arms. "Will, meet William," she said softly, and watched her husband's eyes fill with tears as he took his son into his arms.

She looked back to the Pearl, to the dark man in the rigging whose dark eyes watched her and her family with undisguised longing.

* * *

"Elizabeth?"

She swatted away the hand that brushed lightly across her hair, burrowing deeper into the blankets. The hand returned, undaunted. "Liz, you've got to get up."

Swearing under her breath, she dragged herself into a sitting position, seeing her husband through sleep-dimmed eyes.

He was fully dressed, carefully cradling William, wrapped in blankets. "What's wrong?" she asked, stumbling from the bed. Will caught her arm. "I've been called." He handed William to her, and they hurried from the cabin into the frigid night air.

Jack was waiting by the deck rail, looking dishevelled but wide awake. He held a rope out to Elizabeth, who handed William back to Will, kissed him quickly, and swung out into the dark. She landed in a heap on the deck of the Pearl, scrambling to her feet, and her heart stopped as she saw her son, in his white blankets, skimming across the diamond-hard black water.

Jack landed on the deck with much more grace, William clutched tightly to his chest, and he relinquished the baby to his ashen mother. Elizabeth whirled just in time to see the Dutchman's disappearance, the night sky and the inky water flaring green and fading to black.

"Now you see why I need t'be stickin' close, love."

She nodded, silent as she cradled her son. "Shall…shall we wait for him here? How long is he usually gone?"

Jack shrugged easily. "Sometimes only hours, sometimes days. Depends on how many he's got. We can wait for a few more days yet, I've nowhere to be for a time."

The fear she had clung to, the fear of letting him close to her again, letting him worm his sneaky way further into her heart and her life, was slowly dissipating, and she wished it would remain. She had been living in that fear, keeping him at bay with cool words and distance, and he had stayed away, respecting her feelings and the need to keep her nose clean. But this ship at night had a magic for them, and she couldn't deny it. She turned her attention to William, but the baby could not distract her from the smoky eyes of the pirate captain that stared at her.

"Liz," he murmured, stepping closer. She didn't move, let him sweep a long-fingered hand across her cheek, let him follow his fingers with his own stubbled cheek, let him nuzzle into her hair. But her hand caught his as it brushed against her neck, not pushing away, just holding still. She felt him tense.

"Hot and cold, Liz," he said, just as low, but with an edge in his voice. "I'm just a man. Can't keep up with you."

She tightened her grip on his hand, knowing he was about to leave. He stayed for a second longer before pulling his hand from hers, stalking across the deck. Just before he disappeared, her voice stopped him.

"I don't know what I want, Jack, will you fault me for it?" William fussed at the volume and anxiety in her voice, but for once she ignored him. Jack looked over his shoulder at her. "No, not fault, love. But I won't be toyed with, Elizabeth, and you've not got the chops for it anyways. Whatever you decide you want is fine wiv me, but until you've sorted it out, I'll be keepin' my distance." He disappeared into the darkness and Elizabeth gritted her teeth and stared after him.

* * *

They waited for two more days, but the Dutchman didn't return, and at sunset on the second day, Gibbs came to Elizabeth with apologies and talk of Singapore. She brushed him off, assuring him that she had to get home anyways, but when he left she threw her hairbrush across the room and swore loudly.

As her island appeared, Elizabeth waited for Jack to escort her home, but he was conspicuously absent, and with a guilty face, Gibbs puffed and wheezed his way up the ridge with her, leaving her at the door of her cottage with an regretful smile and a promise that they would return for her in a year's time.

Elizabeth deposited William in his cradle and dashed back outside, stopping on the very edge of the ridge. She watched the Pearl slide around the bend in the coastline, her eyes searching the empty rigging for the captain that was not there.

* * *


	3. Year Three

Disclaimer: All recognizable characters and dialogue belong to Disney.

* * *

A/N: Back again, with another chapter. This one is has a little more favourable J/E action, for those of you disappointed in the last chapter (myself included). Thanks to everyone who commented!

* * *

Summary: As Jack ferries Elizabeth Turner between her island and her husband, their relationship grows into something no one could have ever foreseen.

**Between Dark and Light: A Decade of Love  
**By: Sinnamon Spider

* * *

With William balanced on her hip and a fresh blackberry pie in her hand, Elizabeth carefully made her way down the ridge and followed the hard-tramped dirt path into the village proper. She nodded to Mrs Henry and Mrs Cooper, talking to each other over their garden fences and they waved back. She paused to smile at a group of noisy children who bypassed her with shouts of "'Lo Mrs Turner!" Jeremiah Able, her mail carrier, broke off from the pack to approach her. He was just turned nine and his childish roundness was beginning to lengthen into lanky adolescence. He tugged his forelock respectfully. "Mrs Turner, my mum would love if you'd pay her a visit," he said. "She hasn't seen you in a fortnight, she says."

Elizabeth nodded and started to reply, but William cut her off. "Byebyebyebyebyebyebye!" he squealed. Jeremiah grinned. "Talkin', is he?"

Elizabeth rolled her eyes. "Yes, and continually. He learns a new word and shouts it as many times as he thinks necessary."

The redheaded boy grinned wider. "You shoulda heard Lacey," he said, mentioning his younger sister. "She picked up some rough language from somewhere and she swore like a sailor. Mum nearly had a conniption fit." Elizabeth snickered with him, imaging cheerful but firm Miriam Able hearing her daughter cursing.

"C'mon, Jer!" Most of the children had gone on, but a few boys waited impatiently. Elizabeth waved Jeremiah away with a smile, and he dashed off, bidding her a quick goodbye over his shoulder.

"Knock knock!" Elizabeth called, poking her head around the back counter of the Able's store. "Lizzie! Come in, come in!" Miriam said brightly, up to her forearms in flour.

"I come bearing gifts" Elizabeth said with a grin, holding up the covered pie. Miriam dusted off her hands and came over to relieve Elizabeth of her burden. She peeked under the cloth. "Blackberry?" she guessed. Her friend nodded. "I took William berry picking yesterday. He enjoyed it, didn't you?" She set her son on his feet, holding until he had gained his balance, and the two women watched him toddling around the room. He settled in a corner where Lacey had abandoned a tower of wooden blocks, picking them up in chubby hands and chewing on the rounded edges.

"Talking yet?" Miriam asked, setting the pie on the stovetop to warm it. Elizabeth nodded. "Yes, he says 'ma' and 'bye' and a few others. He likes repeating them at the top of his lungs." She grinned at the other woman. "I heard you had some interesting experiences with Lacey's first words." Miriam rolled her eyes. "Heaven help me, it was a calamity. Her father is so soft-spoken I'm not even certain he knew the words, and I make a point not to use strong language around the children. She must have heard it in the store. I had an interesting few weeks explaining to everyone just why my pretty little girl had such a foul mouth."

They laughed together and William laughed too, before hurling a block at the wall.

"So when are you off to see your husband?" Miriam whisked the cover off the pie and deftly cut two generous slices, placing Elizabeth's in front of her and crowning it with a dollop of thick yellow custard.

"Tomorrow, if Captain Sparrow is on time. He sometimes gets…sidetracked."

Miriam Able was a very intelligent woman, but if she noted the fear and anxiety and longing in her companion's voice, she did not comment on it. "Seeing William so big will be a treat for him," she said instead.

Elizabeth turned to look at her son, who had gone back to chewing on the blocks. His chestnut ringlets, which she had not yet had the heart to cut, brushed his shoulders. His brown eyes sparkled at her. But there was still no telling who his father was, with any certainty.

But over the last year, spent learning with her little boy, she had found that his parentage mattered less than it had before. He was healthy and whole and clever and happy, and that was really all that was important. Unless it became vitally important, she need never let him know that the man he would call "Father" might not be his sire.

While her worry about her son's father had lessened over time, her unease about her parting with Jack Sparrow had only intensified. She had spent many sleepless nights dreading seeing him again, not knowing how he would treat her, wondering if he was still upset. She had even written him not to come, but had never sent the letter; she assured herself that she couldn't let Will go two years without seeing his child, but in reality, she couldn't wait so long to see Jack, all apprehension aside.

She spent an enjoyable afternoon with Miriam, bringing home a few supplies for her journey. As William fell asleep quickly, tucked into the cradle he would soon outgrow, his mother tossed and turned all night long.

* * *

Jack paused on the ridge, staring at the little cottage. He had missed Elizabeth all year, but the feeling was never stronger than now, when he was seconds from her door. He had regretted not seeing her off last year as soon as he had told Gibbs to take her, and spent most of the time sulking and being surly. A series of altercations with Barbossa, Jocard, and other lesser vagabonds had not lightened his spirits, and he was anticipating Elizabeth's return. At least she was nice to look at as she was irritating the spit out of him.

Before he could take the last ten steps to her door, it swung open, revealing a bright-eyed toddler, unsteady but quick on his feet, making an escape. Jack moved to intercept the child before he wandered off, as his mother appeared in the doorway.

"Jack!" She would had launched herself into his arms as soon as he gave her an opportunity, but her son was in her way, staring up at this stranger with a mixture of fear and curiosity on his little face. He paused in his mad dash and Elizabeth waited for the storm, but his interest won out, and his sunny smile split across his face. "Da!" he exclaimed.

Her heart stopped. She had been mentioning "Da" from time to time, getting him used to the word, but he had never said it before. And now, the first time he called out for his father – was it a sign?

Jack crouched to the child's level, his face grave. "Not me, boy, not me. We're off to see your da though. If you're through running away from your mother." He glanced up at Elizabeth, still frozen in horror.

"Out of the mouths of babes, Liz," he said quietly. She nodded, but her eyes were still wide and worried. He stood and moved toward her, but William, playing shy now, toddled to his mother and hid in her skirts. Elizabeth swept him up, using him as a shield between herself and the pirate captain.

He backed off immediately, face blank, and she cursed herself silently. "Ready?" he asked lightly. She nodded again, lowering William to the ground and retrieving her satchel from inside.

When she returned, Jack had his back to her, William held in gentle arms. The child was playing with a string of beads in Jack's hair, examining the trinkets. Though she couldn't see his face, Elizabeth could imagine his expression, and the vision sent a jolt through her body. She cleared her throat loudly and Jack jumped, quickly setting William down. "Let's be off, then." She followed him down the sandy ridge.

As the Pearl came into view, looking dark and sinisterly beautiful in the afternoon sunshine, Elizabeth watched her son's face light up at the sight. "Can you say boat?" she prodded. "'Oat," he parroted dutifully. She smiled.

Jack looked over, frowning. "It's 'ship', if you please," he corrected, sounding insulted. Elizabeth rolled her eyes. "Really, Jack, ship is a bit advanced. He's only just begun speaking."

The pirate didn't reply, and as soon as Gibbs spotted them and came over, he disappeared into his cabin.

With William and Gibbs each entertained by the other – Gibbs attempting to coax "Gibbs" out of the boy – Elizabeth slipped away. She hesitated outside the door to the captain's cabin, before steeling her jaw and opening the door.

He looked up as she entered, but said nothing. She paused just inside the door, his lack of response – favourable or otherwise – throwing her off guard. Then her irritation took over and she snapped, "If you're going to ignore me the whole time, you needn't have bothered coming at all."

Her tone brought Jack's own annoyance quickly to the surface. "I'll keep that in mind, shall I?"

She blinked; he was usually more passive than that. He was frustratingly good at not rising to her bait. This was strange, but not enough to derail her. She tried her hand at guilt.

"If I'm too much of a burden, just say so. I'll be off your hands and you can spend your time doing something else, if you find my presence so distasteful."

"I find your attitude distasteful," he shot back. His lips were set in a tight line, his eyebrows drawn together, his head tilted disdainfully.

Shocked again by his behaviour, she lost her tenuous hold on her own emotions. She crumpled to her knees, breaking her eyes away from his angry face and staring at the worn wooden planks. From the edge of her vision she saw his feet start towards her and she looked up fast enough to catch the concern that fled from his eyes as they met hers.

"What can I say to you, Jack?" she asked quietly. "It seems that no matter what I say or do, it's wrong. You're acting so…strangely."

He held onto the façade of irritation a fraction longer before it fell away. He looked tired and bothered. "Perhaps you should just say nothing," he said, not nastily, sounding rather exhausted.

She tried to find the anger she knew she should react to such a statement with, tried to sweep to her feet and flounce out the door, but she suddenly felt just as drained as he looked. She dropped her eyes from his face, staring again at the floor, idly following the grain of the wood with a finger.

His boots thudded gently on the planks as he moved towards her, but she didn't look up. She was startled when he copied her earlier movement, dropping to his knees to gaze at her. She blinked once, twice; valiant efforts to keep the tears from starting, and he saw them shine, her eyes wide and hazy.

With a heavy sigh, he pulled her against his chest, cradling her gently. She fisted a hand in his soft shirt, curling the other arm around his back, clinging to him and breathing deeply. His hands stroked her hair.

Dimly she registered that he was speaking, and she focused on the whispered words. "I'm sorry, love, I'm sorry," he chanted softly, and she held on tighter, anchoring herself to him.

Then his hand was gentle on her chin, tilting her face to meet his, and their kiss was hesitant and timid, not their usual reckless passion. This was an apology, a reconnection, a search for forgiveness, and each found absolution in the other's arms.

* * *

Breathless and half-undressed, the knock on the door and sound of Gibbs' voice calling his captain made Elizabeth's heart constrict. Jack's mouth slipped from her skin to hiss in displeasure. "Comin'," he shouted back, and she marvelled at the steadiness of his voice, feeling both impressed and a bit insulted.

"Ma?" Elizabeth scrambled to her feet, struggling to retie her laces. Quick hands brushed hers away, tying her back together and caressing her hips before gliding away, and his boots sounded on the floor, the door opening.

"Ma!" William caught sight of his mother, who was hurriedly smoothing her hair. She caught her son as he barrelled towards her. "Did you have fun looking at the ship, sweetheart?" she asked, aiming a quick look at Jack. He grinned at her emphasis on "ship" and she grinned back, her heart light for the first time in months.

* * *

The Dutchman had still not arrived by sundown and she gave up her perch in the crow's nest, climbing down. She watched Marty and a few other men, who were amusing William with a complicated cat's cradle.

Familiar hands slipped around her waist and she jumped, but couldn't resist sinking back against his warmth. "Out in the open, Jack?" she questioned. She felt his shrug. "No one's payin' attention, love, they're too busy entertaining your little pirate prince."

She smiled at his joke. "Whoever's he is, he's got quite a pirate pedigree, hasn't he?" she replied, and he chuckled in her ear. "Well, Will's not much of a pirate, but I suppose he'll suffice." She snorted. "Captain of the Flying Dutchman? How could he not be much of a pirate?"

"He wouldn't be there without my helpin' him." But the jest was tinged with the regret and despair he still clearly felt, and she smoothed her hands over his where they were clasped lightly over her stomach, trying to convey forgiveness in her touch.

It was dark now, and cold; the temperature dropped sharply once the sun was gone. Regretfully she broke away from Jack, and went to collect her son. She didn't know who put up more of a fuss as she carried him off to bed: William or the pirates.

He was asleep by the time they reached her cabin, and Jack was waiting, stretched like a cat on her bed, silent and observant. He watched her dress William for bed, settling him into the trundle bed that had appeared in the cabin, stroking a light hand over his curls. He watched her strip away her own clothes, her eyes intent on his, until she was naked before him, and he caught her up and laid her down and aside from a few heady whispers, neither spoke again.

* * *

She returned to the crow's nest after sunrise, watching for the Dutchman when she wasn't watching Jack. He was actually doing his captain's duties, something she rarely saw; checking ropes and cables, issuing commands to deckhands and carpenters, conversing with the bosun.

The water parted with a ferocious splash, sending spray everywhere, and the Dutchman surfaced from the explosion. She could see Will at the helm, barking orders as water streamed from the rigging and rails.

She climbed down from the crow's nest, catching William as he scampered past her, Marty in pursuit in a game of tag that had the men roaring with laughter. Jack was still talking with the bosun, so she crossed the gangplank alone, letting William free when they were safely aboard the Dutchman.

He was on the move quickly; she had been surprised at how well he adapted to the rocking and pitching of the ships. Suddenly Will was in front of him, and he halted, wary of this strange man who beamed down at his mobile little boy.

Behind him, Elizabeth winced, hoping he wouldn't burst into tears at the sight of his father. He was usually comfortable with strangers, but his face was slightly puckered. It cleared, all of a sudden and he laughed delightedly, exclaiming, "Da!" loud and clear.

Her heart leapt – and dropped like a rock. Jack had appeared, having lost his balance as he swung over from the Pearl and falling ungracefully behind Will just as William had called out

But Will's face was surprised and elated and she hurried to scoop up the boy. "That's right, that's Da!" She handed him to Will, who blinked bemusedly at the string of babble his son issued at him. "How did you teach him Da?" he asked above the child's head. Elizabeth shrugged. "He picked it up, most children do. It's a common enough step from Ma."

Jack peered over Will's shoulder at William, who was happily informing anyone who would listen about his life in terms only he understood. "He makes more sense than you do, at least," the pirate quipped. Will smirked back at him. "I'd better keep him away from you, or he'll start sounding like an addled lunatic." Jack pulled a grotesque face that made William cackle and both men laughed along with him.

Elizabeth watched them quietly. She had spent most of her life surrounded by men, something that most women found disconcerting. But she loved their openness, their candour, their sincerity and firm ways. While she could curse the male gender with womanly fervour when the time called for it, she preferred their company most of the time, and as she observed the three who held the deepest places in her heart, she knew why.

* * *

William had taken to addressing Will as "Da", which greatly relieved Elizabeth. Will had whittled a small wooden horse for him, and after the novelty of chewing on its delicately carved head had worn off, William had christened it "Hoss" and split three pairs of britches trying to force it into his pocket. Elizabeth stitched them up painfully – sewing was something she had never excelled at, and she worked harder to scrub the bloodstains out of her son's clothes. They spent longer than usual together, taking nearly two weeks, until Jack returned one morning wearing a gleeful expression.

"So sorry to interrupt, but there's foolishness afoot in the Adriatic and where there's territory being disputed, there's treasures t'be gained." He was bright-eyed and excited, in his element; sowing seeds of discord and mistrust among his fellow pirates.

Will frowned, ever the cautious one, unlike his impetuous wife and madcap friend. "Shall I lend you a hand?"

Jack shrugged easily. "Come if you'd like. We can both take your little wife home and leave from her island."

As always, Elizabeth cringed internally at the thought of Jack walking haphazardly into a dangerous situation, as he was wont to do. A little voice in her head told her off for not worrying about her own husband, but she overruled it with a very concrete rebuttal: Will's heart was hidden in the Dead Man's Chest, buried under a hidden trapdoor in her cottage. He could not be harmed unless someone disturbed the heart. He was immortal. Jack, for all his schemes and plots, was not.

* * *

Elizabeth and William remained on the Dutchman, following the Pearl, and Will kissed them both goodbye as Jack stood by, waiting to bring them home. As William bounded around the small house greeting all the things he had left behind, Jack pulled her close, pressing his forehead against hers. "Be careful," she said sharply, trying to look him in the eye without going cross-eyed. He chuckled; she had clearly failed.

"Don't worry, love. When have you ever known me to get into any trouble?"

"Hah! Would you like them alphabetically, chronologically, or in order of the most dangerous?"

He bumped his head gently against hers. "No need to be cruel, darlin'. He kissed her long, lingeringly, before breaking away, not looking back as he jogged lightly over the sandy ridge.

"Ma?" William was leaning against her leg. "Da?" he asked, looking around. Elizabeth wondered which of the men he was looking for. "Da's not here now, baby. We'll see him in a year. " She looked outside, watching the white and black sails billowing in the breeze, as the ship of light and ship of dark sailed into the horizon.

* * *


	4. Year Four

Disclaimer: All recognizable characters belong to Disney.

* * *

A/N: Got a nice long chapter for you, with tons and tons of Sparrabeth and very little else. Thanks goes out to everyone who commented; every new chapter brings new readers, and I appreciate everyone who takes the time to read this little story, and especially those who take even more time to leave me feedback and faboulous compliments. You guys make my day.

* * *

Summary: As Jack ferries Elizabeth Turner between her island and her husband, their relationship grows into something no one could have ever foreseen.

* * *

**Between Dark and Light: A Decade of Love  
**By: Sinnamon Spider

**Year Four**

* * *

Jack climbed the sandy ridge, grinning at the sight of the little cottage. He had found himself counting the days until he could make this familiar trip, until he could see her smiling face and glowing eyes. The fact that he was taking a married woman to see her immortal husband did not bother him anymore, although he'd never really had a problem with adulterous females. Just seeing Elizabeth for these few precious days was enough.

He raised his fist to knock on the door, but a loud clunk and a man's voice cursing made him pause. He ran quietly around the side of the little house, peering in through the oil-paper window.

A slim man dressed in rags was in Elizabeth's cottage, prying up the floorboards in a corner. He worked quickly, pausing from time to time to listen for approaching footsteps. As Jack watched, he loosened the last of a section and peered into what seemed to be a hole in the ground below.

Jack quickly scanned the room, but Elizabeth and William were nowhere in sight. He crept back around to the door, waiting for the right moment. When he heard the planks start to clatter against each other, he eased the door open and slipped inside. The man had his back to Jack, piling the planks off to the side of the hole.

Drawing a long knife from his boot, Jack made his move. He tackled the man from behind, but despite his slender build, the man was strong and he twisted Jack's knife hand fiercely towards Jack's own face. He jerked back quickly, but not quick enough, and the point of the knife dragged a line along his cheekbone.

He thrust with a knee to the stomach and the man doubled over, but knocked Jack reeling with an elbow that cracked against his head. As the pirate captain stumbled backwards, the man hesitated, and then fled out the door.

Jack cringed, pressing his hand to his bleeding face and waiting for the stars to clear from his vision. When he could see fairly straight, he approached the destroyed section of floor, wondering what the man had been after, buried under Elizabeth Turner's floorboards.

His sword suddenly slipped from his waist, and he could feel the point press firmly against his back. He straightened slowly, still gripping the knife. Then he whirled, deflecting the blade with a quick swipe of his wrist. His assailant flinched back as he followed the movement with the knife in his other hand. "Jack!"

He stopped dead. Elizabeth, white with horror and anger, stepped back further. Her green-brown eyes were wide as she stared at him. The knife clattered to the floor, dropped from his slackened hand. His sword fell from her own hand.

They stayed frozen for a few seconds more, until he grabbed her and crushed her to his chest. Her arms locked around him, and each listened to the other's heart pounding. "I could have killed you, you foolish girl," he muttered into her hair, the scene replaying in his mind. He gripped her tighter.

She returned the fierce hold, and then broke away, only far enough to stare up at him. Colour was flooding back into her face. She inhaled sharply. "You're bleeding."

"Stabbed meself," he said lightly, mercurial as ever. He lifted his hand to examine the wrist he had blocked the sword with, which was also bleeding. Elizabeth moved away and he heard a ripping sound. She came back with two strips of white lace fabric. She carefully wrapped one of them around his arm, and dabbed at his face with the other. He examined the makeshift bandage. "French lace," he commented. She nodded. "My tablecloth."

He started to object, but she pressed a finger to his lips. "It had stains on it anyways. French lace tablecloths weren't designed to withstand young boys."

He looked around. "Where is said young boy?"

Elizabeth swore. "When I saw the door open, I told him to wait up on the ridge. He'd better not have run off." She turned and disappeared, Jack following behind.

William was seated on the ridge, drawing patterns in the sand with a stick. He looked up as his mother approached, slowing her run when she saw her son was safe. "Mama!" He clambered to his feet, throwing his arms around Elizabeth's knees. She smiled and ruffled his hair. He peeked around her skirts at Jack, and Elizabeth watched the thought process displayed on his happy, open face. He looked puzzled when he glanced back up at her. "Da?" But he wasn't convinced, and when she shook her head and said "That's Captain Sparrow," he seemed satisfied.

Jack snorted. "That's a mouthful," he said dryly. "Jack'll do, boy."

William nodded, and looked at his mother again. "Going home?" he asked.

His question made Elizabeth pause. "What in God's name were you doing in my house like that, Jack?" she asked. She shuddered slightly at the remembrance of a man standing over her ripped-up floor, knife drawn.

"Someone was there before me," he said darkly. "Tore up the floorboards, lookin' for somethin'. I tried to stop him, but he got away from me. Then someone up and stole my sword and was gonna run me in." He grinned at her, but she wasn't smiling.

"The heart," she said, aghast. Someone had tried to steal Will's heart.

Jack's grin slid away, replaced with bleak anger. He turned without a word, climbing the ridge and disappearing. When he returned, he had both his sword and knife in his hands. He thrust the hilt of the sword at her. "Take this. If he comes back to the house, kill him." He headed off for the dense jungle in the distance, the direction the thief had run.

Elizabeth stared after him. She hadn't dared tell him that she had thought he was the one after the heart. She had nearly fainted when she came in through the open door of her cottage and saw him, knife drawn, standing over the hole in the earth where her husband's heart was carefully hidden away. Even as she crept up behind him and stole the familiar sword from his hip, she had been praying to see another face when he turned around. But when he had crushed her in that embrace, his fear plain on his dark tanned face, all her treacherous thoughts had melted away.

She grabbed William's hand, towing him back to the cottage, the sword tight in her grip. She had to defend her son if the thief tried again for the Chest.

* * *

The sun had already set by the time Jack returned. Elizabeth met him at the door, white and apprehensive, her hands twisting together in fear. She paled further at the sight of fresh blood on his shirt.

"Not mine," he said absently when she flinched and touched the ruby stain, but he let her hands slip beneath the material to run across his chest anyways. "What happened?" she asked, staring up at him.

He shrugged. "I caught up with him in the trees. Dealt with it." His face was emotionless and she cursed silently, not for the first time, at his impenetrable mask. "Dealt with it," she repeated, her voice touched with anger. "Did you kill him, Jack?"

He looked at her, now incredulous. "Did I kill him? Did I kill the man who was robbing you of Will's heart, who was in your house with a knife, who likely would have thought nothing of killing you and your son in the blink of an eye? Yes, Elizabeth," he snapped caustically. "I killed him."

She glared at him. "I don't appreciate your sarcasm. And there was no need to kill him!"

His eyes bugged slightly as he gaped at her. "Have you gone soft on me?" he demanded. "Look, Lizzie, you know I'd just as soon negotiate than fight, but this was not the time for lengthy conversations."

She scowled. She had _not_ gone soft. She had no trouble taking lives, when there was nothing else to be done, and she'd taken more than her fair share. Hell, her wedding had taken place in the midst of a bloody, stormy battle; exchanging vows of love with one hand and slicing off limbs with the other. She was no stranger to bloodshed, and never one to shy from it. But this situation irked her, for reasons she could not explain.

"And what if he wasn't working for himself? What if he had accomplices, someone he told about where to find the heart? Am I to go off gallivanting with you and leave Will's heart out in the open for someone to take control of it?" She was fuming, and the look she aimed at him was poisonous.

His own face closed off again, as it did so often. "Go off gallivanting with you." His voice was flat and unimpressed. "Is that how you see it?" He grabbed her arms, squeezing tightly. "I take my time to bring you to see your feckless husband and this is the gratitude I'm rewarded with?" He was close to her now, close enough for her heart to start thumping erratically. "I know you see me as bumbling, amiable, silly old Jack Sparrow, but I am not a fool. I am not at your beck and call. I will not play this tired game with you over and over again, Elizabeth Turner."

She gasped as his words struck her. Turner. He had never called her by her married name – Will's name – before. She stared up at him, scared of him for the first time in her life. Scared that she had finally pushed him away for good.

He dropped his hands suddenly, and spun away. He stood, ramrod straight but quivering with suppressed anger, one hand white-knuckled on the doorframe. She bit her lip, ignoring the shock of pain as her teeth pierced the skin and blood dripped. Furious words sparked on her tongue, lashing out with rage and frustration, but she bit them back and approached him slowly, wary of his tensed and coiled body.

At her hesitant touch, a tremor ran lightly through his limbs, and his taut shoulders slumped, defeated. She slid her arms around him, turning her head and resting her cheek against his back. When he spoke, his voice was quietly firm. "I meant what I said, Elizabeth. I won't continue this game, cat and mouse. I'm me own man, a free man, a pirate, and I don't answer to anyone for my actions." He turned in her arms, looking down at her steadily. "Not even you, Your Majesty."

She said nothing, simply held his gaze with grave eyes. His expression softened and his hand reached out, feather-light, to wipe away the blood that dripped from her mouth. "Y'didn't have to bite yourself, girl," he chastised, but warmer now. She shrugged slightly. "I was going to yell at you."

He sighed, long and weary. "Can't blame ye," he replied, enfolding her in his arms.

"Mama?" The little voice sounded from the dark corner of the house, where William stood in his nightclothes, barefoot and apprehensive. Elizabeth pulled away from Jack and hurried over to her son, picking him up and settling on his little bed. Jack watched with veiled eyes, still standing in the door.

"Mama's sorry, baby," she crooned to him. His eyes were wide, but dry, and his embrace was not desperate, just seeking comfort. "Man shouting," he observed quietly. She smiled crookedly. "Mama was shouting too. No more, though." She swung him back into the bed, tucking the covers over him. "Go to sleep, now, we're off to see Da in the morning."

William's face brightened. He searched in the bedclothes for something, bringing out the wooden horse Will had given him last time. Although the child could pronounce "horse" now, Hoss' name had never changed, which Elizabeth found amusing. "Da give Will'am Hoss," he said. She nodded. "That's right, Da carved Hoss for you, and he'll be pleased to see that he's still in one piece." She kissed the little forehead, stroking the chestnut curls that she had finally, heartbreakingly, cut short.

She sat on the small bed for a few minutes longer, conscious of the pirate's eyes on her, watching her interaction with her child. When she looked back to him, his face was unreadable again, but something old and deep was not altogether hidden in his expression.

"Will you go back to the Pearl?" she asked softly, padding across the floor, avoiding the nails from the disturbed boards. Jack shook his head. "I'll stick close by, if y'don't mind me. I'll just find a nice rock to curl up on." He winked at her.

She swallowed. "I won't have you sleeping outside," she said, sounding almost as unconfident as she felt. It was one thing to share his berth on the Pearl, rootless and informal, but quite another for them to share her own bed, looking solid and foreboding in the dark of her cottage.

His mouth turned up in a smile, his eyes glinting. He was laughing at her, and she had to swallow the sharp retorts that struggled to get out. There had been enough of that already tonight.

He crossed the floor in three quick strides, pulling the door shut securely behind him. He caught her up in one quick movement, taking them the last few steps to her bed. He laid her gently on it, sliding in to lie behind her, cradling her back against his chest. "Go to sleep, love," he said quietly in her ear, his arm tight around her waist, his heart beating gently against her spine. She entangled her fingers with his at her hip, closing her eyes and falling asleep in his warmth.

* * *

Fingers lightly prodding her face woke her up, and she squinted in the fierce sunlight that burned her eyes. "Wake up, Mama," an authoritative, high-pitched voice ordered.

"Yes, wake up, Mama," a darker, honey-smooth voice echoed. She stretched languidly, shielding her eyes as she sat up. William was standing by her bed, arms crossed and wearing an expression of general disapproval, his dark brows furrowed.

Behind him, sitting careless and smirking at the tiny table, was Jack. He winked at her, and she made a face back. "You couldn't keep him from waking me?" she complained, swinging her feet to the floor.

Jack shrugged. "He thinks you've slept long enough, and I don't disagree."

She turned to eyeball her son, whose disapproving air wavered a bit under her stern gaze. "You sleep too long, Mama," he offered in self-defence. "Going to see Da today."

"I don't need reminding," she said, but she smiled despite herself, and William grinned up at her, knowing he was off the hook. She mock-glared at Jack. "You're a terrible influence on him," she reprimanded him.

Jack opened his coffee-dark eyes wide, an unconvincing picture of innocence. "Me?" he demanded. "I'm hurt. Shocked. Betrayed."

She snorted from behind the dressing screen, where she was exchanging her rumpled, slept-in dress for a fresh one. She heard William shriek with delight and emerged from behind the screen to see Jack toss him carelessly in the air again, catching him at the last second. "Shall we be off to see your wonderfully influencing sire, me boy-o?" he enquired, and Elizabeth's heart warmed at his playfulness.

"Yes!" William struggled down from the pirate's hold, looking back to make sure they were following him. "We're coming, we're coming," Elizabeth assured him, watching him carefully as they made their way down the sandy ridge.

* * *

The Pearl looked…different. As they came on board, she cast about, trying to decide what was changed.

As the sun came out from behind a cloud, the deck lit up like something from a legend, and she gaped.

"Gold leaf?" she demanded, whirling to look at Jack, who wore a peacock's proud expression. "Where on earth did this come from?" She examined the deck rail, the helm, the carvings, all sheathed in bright, fine gold.

Jack shrugged. "Told y'last year, when there's territory being disputed, there's treasures t'be had."

"Aye, we made a pretty profit in that venture," Gibbs added, joining them and waving excitedly at Williams, who beamed back. Elizabeth arched an eyebrow at Jack. "And the most useful purpose you could put your mind to was gold-plating the Pearl," she said dryly. Jack and Gibbs nodded, exuberant. "She looks a sight, doesn't she?" Gibbs enthused. "Finest lookin' ship in the Caribbean."

The effect was striking, she had to agree. With fresh black paint and the gold leaf glinting in the sunlight, the ship looked majestic, like something a Greek god would captain. She assumed that such a thought had also occurred to the Pearl's captain, and that he had rather liked the idea.

"Asking for a bit of trouble, though, isn't is?" she asked, trying to sound just as excited as the two men. Jack gestured dismissively. "We're well equipped to handle trouble," he said lightly. "Besides, most important thing is to make a good impression, isn't it?"

She rolled her eyes, knowing well enough not to argue. William tugged impatiently at her hand. "Wanna see the ship, Mama," he whined. She levelled a look at him until he ducked his head. "Please," he added obediently. Gibbs laughed. "C'mon then, lad, we'll teach you how to tie a tack line," he said brightly. He paused for a moment, looking back at Jack and Elizabeth. "What took y'so long?"

Jack scowled and Elizabeth cut across him sharply. "Someone tried to steal Will's heart."

Gibbs whistled incredulously.

"I took care of it," Jack said darkly and Gibbs nodded, seeming nonplussed. Elizabeth threw up her hands in defeat. "Be careful!" she called to Gibbs, who had taken William by the hand and was leading him across the deck.

* * *

She was in her favourite spot on the Pearl, high in the crow's nest, from where she could watch everything happening below. She saw William and Gibbs, the old sailor patiently tying lines with her son, guiding his small hands through the motions.

Twisting around, she watched Jack at the helm. He looked at home with his hands on the black and gold wheel, the spokes held in a light grasp, the ship responding to his slightest touch. He shifted with his movements, pausing from time to time to squint up at the sun. One time he met her eyes and even from high on the mast she could see his cocky smile as he caught her watching him shamelessly, and when he saw her cheeks flame red his smile widened and he laughed out loud.

He belonged on the sea, she thought absently. While Will had taken to a seaman's life with ease and skill, she surmised that he would have been happy on land for the rest of his days, had he not had to rescue her from Barbossa. But Jack looked like he could never have lived anywhere but at sea. Even on solid ground he walked like he was on a ship, and while most of that could probably be caused by his quirky mannerisms, there was a sailor's swagger about him that was never completely erased.

Lost in her musings, the sudden watery blast that signalled the arrival of the Dutchman made her jump, and she whirled around to watch her husband's ship erupt from the ocean. She climbed down from the crow's nest as the two ships lined up.

The Dutchman was her usual pristine self, but she showed no flashy embellishments like the Pearl. Elizabeth wondered if Will had refused the spoils of whatever plunder he had helped Jack with last year. It would be like him.

He was waiting for her on deck, eagerly smiling at the sight of her and William. To his delight, William pulled away from his mother, exclaiming "Da!" and colliding with Will's knees. Elizabeth smiled at her son, who had plunged into a rambling conversation with Will. For all her misgivings, William had never indicated that he could be anyone's son but Will's, and she was grateful for that, for her husband's sake. If she could keep him from ever finding out that his son might not be his, she would be happy.

But as Jack, who had appeared behind her, greeted Will heartily, she frowned sadly. If she could ever truly discern that Jack was William's father, she would nevertheless deny him the joy and pride of claiming him, forever.

He could never be a father to his own son.

* * *

Restless, she slipped from Will's bed, out of the cabin and onto the deck of the Dutchman. She walked along the top deck, stopping at the bow and leaning over the rail. The Pearl glittered in the moonlight, floating like a silent ghost alongside the Dutchman, looking ethereal and she wondered for a split second if it had ever really existed in the first place. The Dutchman was undoubtedly a ship of another world, but with her black paint and sails and her history, the Pearl was not as solid and real as she seemed.

"Beautiful in the dark, isn't she?"

She started at Jack's voice. He was perched in the rigging right above her head, staring out at his own ship. "What are you doing here?" she demanded, casting about for any nearby crewmen. One passed by and she winced, anticipating the scene that was about to take place, but the sailor only nodded to Jack and tipped his hat to her. Jack nodded in return and the man moved on.

"I'm a common sight on this ship," Jack offered, his voice quiet in the dark. "Will and I see quite a bit of each other, even when you're not around." He leapt down, landing silently and gracefully, and came towards her, sliding his hands around her waist.

Her mind squawked that she was on her husband's ship, that he was sleeping, innocent and trusting, just yards away. But her hands acted of their own accord, ignoring her outrage and shame to twine around the pirate's neck. He kissed her, long and deep, arching her slightly over the deck rail.

"Jack," she hissed unevenly as his lips broke from her, but only to brush along her throat. She tipped her head back, hands clutching at his shirt. He continued his attack on her neck, pausing for just a second. "What?"

"Jack, we're on the Dutchman, for God's sake."

He lifted her onto the rail and she remembered the diamond-hard water for only an instant before his arms came securely around her. He nosed the neck of her chemise aside. "And?"

"Will is just below." Her voice was shaking. She pulled her skirt above her knees, opening her legs to bring him closer.

With one arm still tight around her waist, he slid the other from her knee up her leg, his rough hand smoothing over her inner thigh. "Sleeping," he said shortly.

"For now," she retorted, even as she locked her ankles, legs wrapped around his body, arching against him helplessly. "What if he wakes?"

His hand continued its ruthless path, travelling across her skin, goose-pimpled with both desire and the sharp sea breeze. "He won't."

She pressed harder against him, any thoughts of the water that rushed by, dozens of feet below, gone from her head. It was getting harder to remember why she was still speaking. "What if William wakes?"

He raised his face from her throat, looking slightly annoyed. His hand stopped its movements and she whimpered slightly. "Do you want me to go away?" he said, sounding absurdly cordial for a man who had a woman perched on the rail of a ship with her skirt hiked nearly to her waist and her legs twined around him.

Above, a cloud shifted and moonlight spilled across the deck. It lit up his face, dark eyes bright with desire in the silver shine. He looked like something from a storybook, and as with the Pearl, Elizabeth found herself wondering if he really existed.

But his arms were warm around her, his eyes intent on her face, his fingers strong on her skin, and she shook her head violently, silencing herself with a fervent, almost desperate kiss. He continued his teasing caress and her hands fisted on his back, pulling him as close as she could.

She never wanted him to go away.

* * *

She and Will spent only three days together before he was called away to ferry souls. He left her with a lingering kiss and instructions to go home, that he might be gone for a while. He tousled William's hair, handed him a beautifully carved wooden lion as a companion for Hoss, and the two of them watched from the deck of the Pearl as the Dutchman disappeared below the waves.

William was subdued as they sailed for her island, missing his father. Gibbs kept him entertained, continuing his instruction on the workings of the ship.

Elizabeth retreated to the crow's nest, to Jack's irritation. She brooded in the small space, watching Jack at the helm without any of her previous interest.

She was wracked with guilt. She and Jack had made love on Will's own ship, gasping and clinging to each other as her husband slept away below decks. It seemed so much worse than when they had been in Jack's cabin, in her own cottage. This betrayal was right under Will's nose and he had no idea; he was as trusting and oblivious as he ever was, secure in the knowledge that his wife loved him.

She did love him. If she didn't, she wouldn't have been struggling with this crippling guilt. But the call of Jack Sparrow in the moonlight was irresistible, as always. She could never resist him. He was an addiction, a poison she couldn't give up, and she loved him with an intensity she had never felt for Will.

It broke her heart.

She wished she could give up on one of them, whichever it was. But Will's innocent heart and steadfast adoration and Jack's dark attraction and electric personality were each unshakeable. Will's open smile and gentle arms made her feel like a wife, while Jack's fierce eyes and passionate hands made her feel like a woman.

She felt eyes on her, and looked down at Jack. He was watching her curiously, something sad and almost defeated about his face. When he gazed at her, the guilt intensified, and she tore her eyes away. Not only was she betraying Will, she was making Jack suffer.

She was a danger to both of them. A constant thorn in their sides, betraying and denying and deceiving. She didn't deserve either of them.

She climbed down from the crow's nest, making her way to her cabin. From the corner of her eye, she saw Jack signal to Cotton to take the wheel, but she didn't speak to him.

She left the door open, knowing he would follow her, and he appeared in a matter of seconds, closing the door behind him. She was sitting on the bed, looking down at her hands, and he drew one into his own, sitting beside her.

"What's wrong, love?" he asked, concern strong in his voice. "You look like you've been cast into the Locker."

She shrugged and he frowned. "Don't give me that bilge. You've been moping around since Will left. Missing him?"

She stared at him now. She wondered how he could speak so easily about her husband, as he stroked her hand and waited for an answer. In a way, he was just as adoring as Will. The thought brought her no comfort.

The door opened and she looked up quickly, but it was only William. He said nothing to either of them, crossing the floor and looking up at his mother with wide eyes. She lifted him into her lap, burying her face in his dark curls, and his little hands were light on her back.

Larger hands joined them, as Jack pulled them both into his embrace. Elizabeth glanced at him over William's head. His eyes were distant, but they focused on her, and he gave her a sad smile that didn't suit him at all.

She hated it, and hated herself for bringing it to his bright, ever-changing face.

But she surrendered to his hold anyways, helpless as ever in his arms.

* * *

Their parting on her island was brief and bittersweet. He shook William's hand gravely, and then looked to Elizabeth, questions in his eyes. She had no answers, however, and she knew he could feel the hesitation in her kiss.

When he disappeared over the ridge, she pressed her hands to her face, her eyes dry and unseeing. She stared after him long after he was gone.

* * *


	5. Year Five

Disclaimer: All recognizable characters belong to Disney.

* * *

A/N: Apologies for the long wait between updates, but it's the most wonderful season of all: midterms. I've been working on this chapter for a few weeks, but between school and some problems with the chapter itself, it was a bit of a struggle to get it out. Hope you enjoy it anyways! Thanks as always to those who reviewed!

* * *

Summary: As Jack ferries Elizabeth Turner between her island and her husband, their relationship grows into something no one could have ever foreseen.

* * *

**Between Dark and Light: A Decade of Love  
**By: Sinnamon Spider

**Year Five**

* * *

This year, Jack did not come.

Elizabeth and William waited patiently for three days; William with infinitely more calm than his mother, who by the second day had taken to pacing the length of the small cottage.

By the fourth day, she was frantic. Bundling her son in a sweater – it had been a wet, cold summer, and it looked like it was over even now – she hurried with him down to the Able's store, to see if there was news.

Miriam was gone, off playing midwife to one of the village women who was giving birth, and she had brought Lacey with her. But Christopher and Jeremiah were both there, father making a leather belt, son sweeping the floor.

When he saw her, Christopher laid down his needle and thread and came over. "Mrs Turner, what are you doing still here?" he asked. "Shouldn't you be gone to see your husband by now?"

She let William, struggling to be free, down to the ground. He scampered over to Jeremiah, who knelt on the floor and spoke to the young boy. Elizabeth loved how patient and caring eleven-year-old Jeremiah was with her son, but today she had no smiles for the odd pair.

She looked back at Christopher. "Yes, I am supposed to be gone. But Captain Sparrow never came to get me." She looked around the store and Christopher could feel her anxiety. "Has Captain Willand come by with a message of any sorts?"

Sad to disappoint this worried young woman, Christopher shook his head. "No'm. I haven't seen Willand in over a month. There've been quite a few storms this summer and I think the sailors are having trouble. That would explain Sparrow's absence."

She nodded, subdued. This had been her last desperate hope, and now it was crushed. She tried a smile for Christopher and it came out shaky and insincere. "Thank you, Christopher. Please tell Miriam I stopped by, and I was sorry to miss her." He nodded in reply, concern and pity in his blue eyes.

She crossed the store to the corner, and Jeremiah rose to his feet as she approached, tugging his forelock. "Sorry to hear you're not to see your husband this year," he said, his voice cracking and making William laugh.

Elizabeth's smile for the young boy – no, man – came out a bit more successfully. "Thank you, Jeremiah," she said, laying a light hand on his shoulder. He flushed crimson and she felt her smile widen. "Come along, William, we're going back home."

Her son raised his head, setting his jaw obstinately, and she sighed, readying for a fight. William was stubborn as hell, a trait that had not helped define his parentage any further; she herself was pig-headed, as were Jack and Will. "I wanna stay and play with Jer'miah," he said, not quite whining, but close enough for Elizabeth to grit her teeth. "He's not playing, he's working, and you're getting in the way," she replied, scooping him up. Jeremiah offered her a grin, and said, "C'mon, William, listen to your mama."

William squirming in her arms, she nodded again to Christopher, who had returned to his leatherworking, and he nodded in farewell.

Once outside, she set William down, firmly grasping his hand. He had crossed his arms over his chest, his expression sour, and he twisted his hand in hers, trying to break away. She scowled down at him. "Really, what has gotten into you?" she said sharply.

The boy scowled back, and she knew whose face that was – hers. "Where's Jack?" he demanded mulishly. "Isn't he going to take us to see Da?"

Her irritation melted away, replaced with fear and worry and dismay. She tugged lightly on her son's hand, pulling him towards the ridge. "I don't know where he is," she said. "I'm hoping he's just running late and will be here very soon." She let go of his hand. "Maybe he's waiting for us at home. You run ahead and find out."

Happy to be given a task, William set off towards the house, his mother following closely. She doubted that Jack would be there, but it had given her son something to do, and with him occupied, she could focus on her ever-growing fear.

When she reached the house, William was sitting on the front step, a disapproving expression on his little face. "He's not here," he said, frowning up at her. "I'm tired of waiting."

He fought a little, as he always did now, when Elizabeth picked him up and crushed him to her chest. But he could feel her anxiety and quieted. Elizabeth stroked his dark curls. "So am I, sweetie," she said quietly. "So am I."

* * *

Fall was nearly over, and winter setting in. There was no snow, of course, this deep in the tropics, but there was no need for snow when violent storms and fearsome hurricanes ripped their way through the islands almost daily.

Elizabeth and her son stayed cooped up for days, and William was feeling the effects. He had never before been so difficult, and when Elizabeth could stop and remember that this meant he was becoming more independent and growing up, it made her smile, but sadly. Unfortunately, she could not bring herself to think so optimistically very often, and mother and son butted heads all through the season.

One wet, dark morning that looked to Elizabeth like all the rest, someone knocked on her door.

She had been expecting a few men from the village to come help her board up her windows, but that had been days ago and when they hadn't arrived, she had done it herself. She opened the door and was shocked by the sight before her.

Gibbs stood on her doorstep, supporting a man who was sickly thin, a hat pulled low over his face. Gibbs himself looked little better, leaner than she had ever seen him, and older too.

She stepped back and motioned them inside, closing the door against the lash of wind and rain that hurled itself at the house.

"Thanks, 'Liz'beth," Gibbs panted, pulling out a damp handkerchief and wiping his streaming face. The man beside him reached up slowly to remove his waterlogged hat, and when the firelight caught his face, Elizabeth couldn't suppress her scream.

It was Jack; emaciated, his face hollowed and eyes sunken, his movements brittle and careful. He offered her a weak smile that she couldn't return. "Look so bad, do I?" he said, and his voice was hoarse and frail.

Elizabeth pressed her hands to her mouth, horror-struck. This scarecrow of a man, grey-faced and with trembling hands, looked nothing like his robust, quick-moving self. "What _happened_?" she demanded, hand still at her mouth, warding off another shriek.

Jack lowered himself painfully into a chair, saying nothing, and Gibbs spoke instead, voice and face grim. "He got sick. Pneumonia. The fool is just getting past it, and he insisted on coming here, even when I told him it'd kill him." The glare he levelled at his captain held none of his usual bemusement.

Eyes still wide with shock and terror, Elizabeth grabbed Jack's hand, cringing at the skeletal feel, and pulled him to his feet. He winced and coughed, a dry tearing sound, and raised a hand to his chest. "Gently, love," he said, and she could hear a faint trace of his usual voice beneath the gravelly words.

She propelled him to her rocking chair, in front of the fire, and snatched her blanket off her bed, wrapping it tightly around him and easing him into the chair. He stopped her frantic movements, catching her by the wrist and she looked at him. He frowned at the look on her face. "I'm not dead, love, not by far," he said.

Gibbs snorted and Elizabeth nodded in agreement. "You could be, soon," she snapped and his face darkened, emphasizing the hollows in his cheeks and the circles under his eyes. "What were you thinking, coming out here in this weather?" she continued, her fear giving way to anger. "No, never mind that; you weren't thinking, clearly." She pulled her arm from his grasp, recoiling at how little effort it took to break his hold, and rounded on Gibbs.

"You should have chained him to his bed," she snapped at the other man, who had sat in the seat Jack had vacated. She ignored the weak chuckle that came from the rocking chair.

"We tried!" Gibbs protested. "He's the captain! We can't disobey him!"

"I'm sure he'd forgive your insubordination out of gratefulness for being _alive!_"

She was at the stove now, reheating the soup she and William had not finished at supper the night before. When it was hot, she ladled it into two bowls, thrusting one at Gibbs, who took it without comment, and pressing the other into Jack's trembling hands. She stood above them, arms crossed firmly, watching them eat with a thunderous expression.

From the corner, William waved at Gibbs. He had been watching the whole exchange with wide eyes, but he knew enough of his mother's temper not to try her, and even now she shot him a glance and he dropped his hand, giving her an innocent smile.

When his bowl was empty, Gibbs stood hesitantly. He crossed to the door, opening it a crack and peering out. "It's stopped raining," he reported.

"Good," Elizabeth bit out. She was still supervising Jack, who was silently eating, eyes downcast and a hint of a smile playing around his thin lips.

"I'll just run back down to the Pearl, then," the other man continued, opening the door wider. Elizabeth made an impatient motion, not listening. Grateful for her preoccupation, Gibbs slipped away with a wink at William, who beamed back.

Jack held out the empty bowl to Elizabeth, upside down to prove that it was empty. She glowered at him, but he simply sighed and closed his eyes. As she took his bowl away, his hand caught hers again, and she paused this time, looking down at him. He looked only slightly better, with the heat from the fire and the warm food bringing a faint blush of colour to his pallid face, but his expression was peaceful and serene.

"If you'd nurse me back to health wivout killing me, Lizzie, I'd be very thankful." His voice was slightly stronger, his dry throat soothed, and his words were familiarly teasing. She softened under his spell, as always, and let her hand play across his sunken face, his usually defined cheekbones sharpened to knife-points. "Fool," she chastised, but gentler now, and his cracked lips quirked in a smile.

Within seconds he was asleep, and she moved quietly around the cottage, keeping William entertained and silent, while the pirate slept before her fire.

* * *

He was in better shape the next day, having slept through the rest of the afternoon and night. His eyes were brighter, his voice ever stronger, and he winked at her as she fussed over him.

Satisfied that he would not be told off for speaking, William issued a greeting to Jack. "When are we seeing Da?" he asked, looking up hopefully at the pirate, who smiled sadly. "I don't rightly know, boy. Old Jack's not feeling like hisself at the moment, and your Da was expectin' us months ago."

"How long were you ill?" Elizabeth asked from across the room, where she stood at the table, kneading dough.

"About eight weeks," Jack replied. "We were on the way to get you, and we got caught in a storm. I got a cold that turned worse, and I couldn't get out of bed. We pulled in at Tortuga and Gibbs had a doctor come and look at me. Took one glance, told me I had pneumonia, and ran off the ship with his hand over his mouth. It's been hard this year, I 'magine, what with all the rain and storms."

He scratched his head, taking off his bandanna and wringing it out over the hearth, where the water hissed and sizzled. Elizabeth watched him wring out his dreadlocks. He continued speaking. "We stayed in Tortuga for a month and a bit, until I could stand again, and then I made Gibbs set sail for here. Didn't want to leave you without any news of us at all."

She rolled her eyes, pounding the dough with more force than necessary. "You could have sent a message with someone, you idiot. You didn't have to risk your life to come and tell me you were dying."

He shrugged, tying the bandanna around his hair again. "Figured it wouldn't make a difference, if I was already dyin'."

She glared at him. He said nothing, but her heart warmed to see his familiar wicked grin.

* * *

They didn't leave the island that year. Elizabeth refused to let Jack back on the open water, despite his ranting and complaining, and while it pained her to leave Will wondering where she was, she would not risk Jack's life, even if he would.

The pirate recovered slowly, even though he was usually in good health and didn't get sick often. A relapse two weeks after he had come to Elizabeth's island had left him weak and shaking again, and had given Elizabeth enough fear and dread to last a lifetime.

When he was well again, Jack set about fixing up Elizabeth's small cottage. He ripped up the entire floor and laid it again, but not before he and Elizabeth moved the Dead Man's Chest to a new location, leaving an empty trunk in the hole where it had been. He scoffed at her attempts to board up her windows and replaced the planks. At her request, he made her a bigger table, and spent long hours polishing the surface to a dark shine before carving a simple but pretty design around the edges.

Elizabeth loved watching him work. She had had no idea that he was skilled with anything like woodworking, but he was precise and quick and capable. He also tended to strip down to his bare chest, for reasons unknown, and without his shirt, she could happily see that he was gaining back the weight he had lost during his illness.

His work also fascinated William, who was soon demanding to help. Jack patiently guided him through the steps of whatever project was at hand, watchful of the boy around the tools, and enthusiastic in his praise of the completed work. This kept William thoroughly entertained through the long, wet, cold winter, for which Elizabeth was profoundly grateful.

Jack had been with them for nearly five months, by her count, when she stirred one morning and rose from her bed to glance outside.

It was impossible to see the sky though the boarded windows, but there was a single pane of glass in the door, and she twitched aside the curtain to look outside. The sun was shining weakly, for the first time in days, and the air was already warmer. Delighted at the prospect of letting William outside for once, Elizabeth crept back to the bed, curling against Jack. The pirate sighed, pulling her close and burying his face in her neck.

She had taken him into her bed without a second thought. When he was sick, she had forced him there while she slept in her chair in front of the fire, but that had stopped once he was strong enough to insist against it.

Now, even when he was hale and whole, they still shared her bed, revelling in each other's constant presence without fear of discovery. William was still too young to ask any questions, and so they were safe to spend the nights together.

She heard footsteps from William's corner of the room, drawing closer until they stopped. She opened her eyes to find her son staring down at her. "What is it, sweetheart?" she asked quietly. Beside her, Jack groaned. She slapped his hand as it snaked around her waist.

"I'm bored," William replied, eyeing Jack, who was now awake and glaring balefully at Elizabeth. "Jack, are we gonna do more work today?"

"You just woke up," Elizabeth cut over Jack's reply, struggling free of his embrace. "How can you already be bored?" William shrugged, looking past his mother at Jack, who returned the shrug. "Don't know, lad. I think we've run out of things to work on."

Elizabeth, who saw William's lip thrust out in a classic pout, quickly stood and hurried to the door. Thankfully, the sun had stayed out. "It looks much warmer outside, William, maybe you and Jack can play out there."

The clouds on her son's face cleared at the mention of outside. "Is winter over?" he demanded. Elizabeth shrugged. "I'm not sure, but it's warm out today, so you should get in all the playing outside that you can."

"Okay!" William hurried to get dressed. Elizabeth smiled at his excitement, watching him dress with careful but still clumsy movements. She made to return to her bed and Jack, but the pirate extracted himself from the sheets and stood, stretching like a cat and drawing on his boots.

Irritated that she would have to go back to an empty bed, Elizabeth pulled on her dressing gown, putting the kettle on and making herself a mug of tea. William, now fully clothes, waited impatiently for Jack, and the two left the cottage quiet and empty. Elizabeth sighed. Having two boys in the house had made for a noisy winter, and the silence was odd in her ears. Rising to her feet, she dressed herself, tying on an apron, and headed out to see what damage the winter winds had wreaked on her garden.

The sun was still out and beaming down with warm heat. The air was moist and a light, but warm breeze rustled through the dead grass and bare trees. Elizabeth shaded her eyes as she glanced out over the ocean, jewel-bright and calm; a far cry from the storm-tossed, violent grey waves of just a few days ago.

William was darting from bush to rock to sand, his delight at being freed from the house palpable. Jack had disappeared, worrying Elizabeth until she saw him stride back into view, a light but long sapling in his hand. He winked at her as he settled on a wide, flat rock, and began to strip the sapling, peeling the bark away until the wood was smooth, soft, and white. He then took out his carving knife – Elizabeth had never realized how many knives he had, secreted away in various places among his clothing – and began to whittle something from the clean sapling.

Clearing away the bracken and debris from the garden was time-consuming, and after the soil was bare and free of rubble, Elizabeth stood and stretched her sore back, looking around. William was sitting beside Jack, working on a sapling of his own. He pulled the bark away with his small fingers, his face tight with concentration as he cleaned the wood. Jack was finishing his whittling, smoothing the splinters from the wood with long sweeps of his knife, periodically examining the work William offered him.

Seeing the two of them side by side, both hard at work, Elizabeth was struck with their similarities and suddenly it hit her.

Suddenly there was no question as to who was William's father.

She stared harder at the pair, wondering how she could have missed it all. William had Jack's high cheekbones, although they were round with childhood. He had Jack's dark eyes and the same way of widening them in mock innocence or narrowing them in annoyance. He had the same fleeting facial expressions. His chin was identical to the pirate captain's. His slanting forehead was similar.

She pressed a hand to her throat, overwhelmed. Her eyes teared with a dozen different emotions: fear, love, regret, adoration, pride, shame. She remembered her earlier thought; Jack could never acknowledge William as his son, so long as Will lived.

Jack happened to look up just then and his ever-changing face darkened with concern. He laid aside his knife and wood, climbing to his feet and walking towards her. Catching her arms, he looked down at her as she stared up with wide, tear-filled eyes.

"What, love?" he murmured, but she couldn't reply, could only stare at him and bite her lip to keep the tears from spilling over.

She shook her head violently. "Nothing. I just…my back hurts," she finished lamely. He frowned at her, knowing full well that she was lying, but not pressing the matter. His hands moved from her arms to her lower back, gently but firmly kneading the flesh through her dress. "Better?" he asked, something intangible in his voice, and she forced herself to nod. "What are you carving?"

He arched an eyebrow, as if to tell her she was not off the hook, but he left her to retrieve his piece of wood. She followed him back to her son – their son – who held his piece out to Jack.

Pulling a thin leather strip from somewhere amongst his pockets, Jack tied William's smaller length of wood perpendicular to one end of his own sapling, leaving a few inches extending past the horizontal piece. He picked up his knife and cut the extra ends of leather, then handed the whole thing to William.

The pieces of wood looked foreign to Elizabeth until they were in her son's hands, and when Jack corrected the boy's grip, she was certain.

"A sword?" she exclaimed, incredulous. "Jack, for God's sake – he's four years old!"

The pirate shrugged easily. "Never too early to start learning. I was only a tyke when I started."

She rolled her eyes. "That is an entirely different circumstance, Jack. You were a…" She trailed off helplessly. She had been about to say "You were a pirate's son", but the words died as she realized their uselessness.

William was a pirate's son, regardless of his parentage, and as he moved across the sand making inelegant but enthusiastic slashes with his wooden weapon, she could not deny that even at such a tender age, her boy looked at home with sword in hand.

Jack was still looking at her, face coloured with curiosity, and she scrambled to speak. "And now what, will you teach him to start banging away at every opportunity instead of reasoning with intelligence?"

He shrugged again. "It's worked for me, at least so far."

She snorted, but motioned him away and stood watching with her arms crossed as he grabbed another long piece of wood and began to instruct her son in the manly art of swordplay.

* * *

It turned out that winter was indeed over, and as the weather got even warmer, Elizabeth could feel Jack's impatience growing. He was fully recovered from his illness and as much as he enjoyed spending time with her and William, he belonged on the open ocean and not bound to land.

One day the Pearl rounded the bend in the cove, and Jack turned to her with impish but sad eyes. He kissed her, long and wistful, and pressed his forehead to hers when they broke for air. "I'll search out Will and tell him what happened," he said quietly. "Hopefully he won't kill me."

She smiled, but weakly, stroking his cheek with a lingering hand before he pulled away. He knelt in front of William, gravely instructing the boy to continue with his sword practice.

"How'm I gonna do that when you're gone?" William asked, wooden sword cradled in his hands. He rarely put it down.

Jack winked at him, and then looked at Elizabeth. "Ask yer Mum. She's a right devil with a sword or two."

"Jack!" Elizabeth shouted, aghast. She fended off her son, who looked at her with wide eyes and tugged on her sleeve, already pestering her about lessons and fights. Jack laughed, threw her that wicked grin, and disappeared over the sandy ridge.

* * *


	6. Year Six

Disclaimer: All recognizable characters belong to Disney.

* * *

A/N: I won't waste your time with excuses for the half-a-year that's passed. Hopefully you're still willing to invest in this story, and seeing an update will brighten your day. As always, thanks to those who reviewed, all those months ago.

* * *

Summary: As Jack ferries Elizabeth Turner between her island and her husband, their relationship grows into something no one could have ever foreseen. J/E.

* * *

**Between Dark and Light: A Decade of Love  
**By: Sinnamon Spider

**Year Six**

* * *

"Cat…rat…bat…sat." William turned to his mother for approval, his fingers tracing under the words she had written on a piece of paper.

Elizabeth nodded. "Very good," she praised. "Now, write them all out."

William grasped the chalk, carefully writing the words on the slate Elizabeth had bought at the Able's store. With William's fifth birthday having passed in February, she had begun to teach him his letters and numbers and to her relief and pride, he was doing quite well with them.

She turned to the window. She was expecting Jack within a few days. Even though she had seen him only six months ago, after spending the entire winter with him, she was feeling his absence more than ever now.

It had been strange, having a man around for such a long period of time; she hadn't experienced it since her father was alive, and that had been quite a different matter. She had never spent so long with Will, aside from the time they had on the various ships, and even then they had never been completely alone.

Spending the winter with Jack had almost made her forget who she was married to.

"Jack!"

Her son's exclamation made her jump. "What?" she demanded, spinning toward him. William pointed out the other window. She had replaced the oil-paper with glass only a few weeks ago, and through the clear pane she could see the pirate captain climbing the sandy ridge. He caught sight of them and waved.

"What on earth are you doing here?" she cried, swinging the door open. He grinned at her, walking up the dirt path to chuck her lightly under the chin. "Happy to see you too, love."

"You're not due for three more days!" she objected. She could feel her face flushing, her body reacting to even that light, brief touch. He shrugged easily. "So I'm early. Hello, Master Turner." He greeted Will, who had abandoned his lesson and dashed to the corner, where the wooden sword that Jack had made him last spring stood. He showed the sword to the pirate. "Jack! Mama and I have been practicing. Can I show you?"

Jack started to reply, but Elizabeth cut over him. "No, for heaven's sake, he just got here." She whisked the sword from her son's grasp. "And since he's here now, I need you to run to Able's and get a few things."

She ignored William's moan of disgust and Jack's amused face. Quickly writing a short list on the paper she had written William's lesson on, she handed it to her son. "Go. You and Jack can play when you get back."

Pacified by this promise, William tore out of the house and down the ridge, heading for the village centre.

Elizabeth turned to Jack, who was wearing a peculiar expression. "What?" she asked, suddenly defensive without knowing why.

"Practicing, eh?" he asked, taking a step towards her. She blinked, and then realized what he meant. She turned the wooden sword, still in her hands. "Oh. Yes, no thanks to you and your little revelation last time you were here. He badgered me for three days straight until I agreed to teach him a little."

He stepped towards her again, that strange look still on his face. She stared at him. "Jack, what are you thinking?" she asked, well aware of how dangerous that question could be.

His eyes flicked from the sword in her hands to her face, and she suddenly identified his expression.

Desire.

He closed the distance between them with another step, but continued moving, walking around to stand behind her. His arms encircled her, hands finding hers on the hilt of the sword and raising it to a defence position. She pressed against him and could feel the confirmation of his inner thoughts pressing back.

The absurdity of it all was tucked somewhere in her mind; that he had become aroused by seeing her with a sword, but the thought was smothered by her own answering rush of desire.

He was moving now, slowly, smoothly, performing a basic series of movements. She remembered this series and moved with him: parry, riposte, lunge, recover. The eroticism of swordplay had never occurred to her before.

She had learned this series and others with her first fencing teacher: Will. A few days after Jack's somewhat bungled escape from the Port Royal wall, Will had come to her with two of his swords. "I have a feeling he'll be back," he had said, "And you'll need to be able to defend yourself."

Will had been an excellent teacher, but his calm, precise instructions had been merely recitation. As Jack moved with her through the series, his breath heavy and warm on her neck, his hands strong on hers, she felt as though she had never understood the exercises so clearly.

His hands released hers, abruptly, and hers loosened. The sword clattered to the ground, but neither of them noticed. She spun in his embrace, trying to catch the breath that had quickened, and not from exertion.

His coffee eyes were intense, staring down at her. His hands gripped her waist, drawing her closer.

The door banged open and she wrenched herself away as William came back, a large parcel carefully balanced in his arms. "That was quick," she said, and her voice quivered. She took the package from him.

William shrugged. "I hurried. I wanted to practice with Jack. He's good, Mama, you should come and watch."

She laughed, a bit hysterically. "No, thank you, I've got to get us ready, seeing as I wasn't expecting Jack for a little while yet."

"Oh. Where's my sword?" William asked, and Elizabeth's hands faltered on the parcel. Her son continued. "Oh, Jack's already got it." He dashed outside, calling to the pirate captain. Elizabeth didn't dare watch them practice.

* * *

William had fallen asleep early, tired from a hard day of exercise. He was a quick learner and Jack was a patient teacher. Elizabeth tucked him in with a smile before returning to the table, where Jack still sat. He grabbed her as she passed by, pulling her down onto his lap, his mouth meeting hers even as she was falling.

Her nerves were still raw from her own fencing lesson and she gripped his shirt collar, twisting her legs around to straddle his hips. Her eagerness inflamed him, and he stood and lifted her with him, cradling his hands under her buttocks and carrying her to her bed. He laid her down, but paused before joining her, admiring her from above; her flushed face, her parted lips, her arching back. She waited only seconds before darting up to pull him on top of her, and the rest of the night was lost in pleasure.

* * *

She slipped from his arms in the earliest morning, and quietly pulled on her dressing gown and left the house. The sun was peeking over the ocean, still dark and calm, as she sat on the sandy ridge.

"Couldn't sleep?"

She started at the sound of his voice, cursing his catlike silence. "No."

He settled down beside her, following her gaze across the water to where the sun was climbing higher, colouring the sky in purples and pinks.

"Was Will angry?" she asked. She was feeling rather ambiguous about her husband's reaction to Jack living in her house for half a year. Perhaps if he was bothered, it would be enough to make him leave her…

She shook herself. What kind of insanity was this? Her heart twisted painfully, caught as ever between Will and the pirate who was speaking now.

"No, he said he understood. Said he knew I wasn't well – he'd seen me."

Elizabeth turned to stare at him, confused. "What?"

Jack nodded. "He'd seen me, on the other side. Not all there, but enough to know it were me." He shrugged. "Guess I was closer to death's door than I thought."

"He saw you," she echoed, eyes wide with fear. God, how close had she coming to losing him? Her hands reached out, seeking his warm, firm body even though she could see him before her, healthy and alive as ever.

His face changed, careless disregard for his own life giving way to concern as her skin turned white and her hands shook. "Hey, now, I'm still here, aren't I?" He caught her trembling hands in his, but he wasn't prepared when she threw herself at him.

"You almost died," she choked out. "What would I have done if you died?"

He stuttered, floored by her reaction. "I…but I din't, Liz. I'm right here!" He tightened his embrace, pulling her closer, showing her that he was far from dead, no matter how close he had been.

"What would I have done if you died?" she repeated, terror evident in her voice. He shook her gently. "Elizabeth!"

She pulled back far enough to look at him, and her wide eyes made him anxious. He cupped her face in his hands, holding steady. "Liz. You'd have been fine. You'd have kept on raisin' your boy, waitin' for your Will. 'm not your whole life."

She laughed then, wildly. "Oh, but you are, Jack, you are. You've wormed your way so deep into me that I can't ever separate you from anything else." She laughed again, but her voice cracked and tears began to course down her cheeks.

He stared down at her, concern deepening to fear. "Jesus, Elizabeth. Stop it. You're scarin' me." He took her hands from her face and wrapped his arms around her again, tucking her head under his chin, gently rocking her back and forth. She clutched at him almost painfully, sobs wracking her slender frame. "All right, love, you're all right. You're all right," he murmured softly.

He held her tightly until her tears subsided, and when she squirmed in his arms he let her go. She swiped her sleeve across her face, wiping away the wet tracks. When she emerged from the sleeve, she stared at him, her red-rimmed eyes angry. He cringed away from her as her fury broke over him.

"Don't you _ever_ be so candid about things like that again, Jack!" she screeched.

He let his head droop, taking her rage in silence. At least if she was yelling at him, she wouldn't have that wide-eyed terror on her face; an expression that had shaken him to the core. Anger he could deal with. Tears, even. But that frail, broken look was one he intended to never experience again.

* * *

They boarded the Pearl that day, and not for the first time, Elizabeth wondered what the crew thought of Jack's furloughs at her house. Most of them she didn't know personally; Jack's crew changed so often. But the mainstays – Cotton, Marty, Pintel and Ragetti – had known her for years now, and while none of them ever said anything about how she and Jack spent their time together on her island, she noted their less-than-coy glances and the way they hurried to change the topic when she approached.

Gibbs, however, was not so close-mouthed. After reacquainting himself with William and entrusting the boy to the care of the more reputable crew, he met Elizabeth at the main mast, where she had been about to climb to her perch in the crow's nest; ostensibly to look for the Dutchman, but mostly to watch Jack.

Said pirate captain was preening at the wheel, examining his reflection in the gold leaf that, Elizabeth was somewhat surprised to see, was still decorating the Pearl's surfaces. He did not notice his First Mate approach Elizabeth.

"'Liz'beth, I've been meanin' t'speak with you," Gibbs said quietly, sneaking a surreptitious glance at his peacocking captain. Elizabeth smiled to herself. Gibbs was a mother hen, given to fussing over ship and crew, but mostly he kept a careful eye out for Jack, whom Elizabeth thought he viewed almost as a son. She had no idea how old Gibbs was, but he had not been young when he sailed under Norrington and accompanied them on the crossing from London.

She liked Gibbs, to be sure. He was a wealth of information, both in general and specifically about Jack, although she could never be sure if he was telling her the actual truth or just what Jack told him to say. He had been the one bright spot on her voyage to Jamaica when she was twelve, regaling her with stories and tales despite his obvious discomfort with having a woman on board, and when she had first come face to face with him after eight years, it was with relief and pleasure that she had taken in his craggy face and twinkling eyes. Gibbs was ever a comfort to her.

"Now, it's no business of mine how you spend your time, Liz, and far be it from me to spread any rumours about you, but when it comes to Jack…well…" The pirate trailed off, looking supremely uncomfortable, and Elizabeth took pity on him.

"Joshamee," she began, and his expression grew more serious at her use of his given name. "I know you care very much about Jack. So do I."

He nodded sagely. "I knows it, Liz. Seen it in you since the first days. And I beg your forgiveness for my forwardness, but I see a lot of Jack in young William."

She smiled again. These pirates were a funny lot. "Yes. Jack is his father, I'm fairly certain."

Gibbs frowned in return. "I thought as much. Does he know?"

She nodded, then paused, unsure. "I don't know exactly what he knows. He knows that William could be his or Will's. I'm not certain if he thinks he is William's father or not. He treats William well, almost like a son, but I…I don't know."

"Mmm," Gibbs hummed vaguely. "Well, it's your secret to tell, and I need not say that it'll be kept safe with me." He looked at her peculiarly and not for the first time, she felt that schoolmarm air that Gibbs possessed. He was disappointed in her, and she was disappointed in herself because of it. "Just this: I ask you to be careful how you treat Jack. He's a tough ol' bird, but he's taken a lot of abuse and it's done damage to him. I see how he is with you, Liz, and it makes me happy to see him so happy, but I can't help but remembering that you're a married woman, and maybe he doesn't think of that as much as he should."

She ducked her head, chastised. Even Gibbs was aware that she was hurting Jack. She wondered what kept him coming back to her.

The older pirate placed a dirty hand under her chin, tipping her head back up. "Now then, no sulkin', or he'll be wonderin' what we're discussin' that's makin' you so unhappy."

Elizabeth darted her eyes to the wheel, but Jack was busily examining his compass, and she wondered what he was searching for. But just then there was a noisy burst of spray and the Flying Dutchman surfaced from the depths.

* * *

Will was, as Elizabeth had hoped, happy to see William grown so big and having made progress with his reading and writing, but when the boy showed the wooden sword to the man he called "Father", she noted a pang of sorrow in her husband's eyes and began to regret allowing Jack to teach William. It was, after all, a father's right and duty to teach his son the basics of swordplay, and Will was probably the better teacher.

He said nothing disparaging, however, and watched William perform the same series that Elizabeth and Jack had so deliciously gone through. Just the sight of the series made her knees weaken, and she was glad Jack had elected to remain on the Pearl for once.

Will sent his son off with some crew members and approached her, covering up the sadness still on his face. "He's very good," he said, kissing her cheek. Elizabeth nodded and spoke frantically. "Will, I'm so sorry. Jack came and began to teach him – "

Her husband's eyes narrowed, just fractionally, and her heart stopped as she realized her mistake. "On the Pearl, I mean. He came on the Pearl and began to teach William. I never even thought of stopping him." She smiled hurriedly. "And of course, Jack told him you trained me, and he wouldn't leave me alone until I gave him a lesson or two."

Will smiled, but it wasn't his usual beaming smile, and Elizabeth cursed herself for ever hoping that he would turn suspicious. For all his faith and trust, Will was not an idiot. If she kept handing him clues so obviously, he would soon catch on, and it broke her heart to think of hurting him.

"So, what have you been up to?" she asked, a little too brightly, and Will seized the change of topic with an eagerness that pulled her tightly-wound nerves even tighter.

* * *

Though she knew it was risky, she couldn't resist the siren call, and when she slipped from Will's cabin out onto the deck, she found Jack waiting in the rigging, as she knew she would.

His face brightened when he saw her, but darkened again when he noticed her worried eyes and wringing hands. "What, love?" he demanded, lifting his strong hands to her shoulders and massaging the knots of tension that had been forming all day.

She moaned, turned to jelly at his touch, as always, and her head tipped backwards. But her voice was still fretful. "I think Will is catching on, Jack. He's not an idiot – " Jack snorted behind her – " – No, he's not. He's far more clever than you give him credit for. Ahh." She gasped as his talented hands located a knot just above her shoulder blade and dug in, working out the clenched muscle. "I should have never have let you teach William to use that sword."

"Bit late for that, innit?" His hands fell from her shoulders and she lifted her head at the lack of contact, but they soon caressed her hips, and this time her head fell back onto his shoulder as his lips came around to brush her ear.

"Elizabeth?"

The call came from the stairs leading down to the cabins, and Elizabeth uttered a silent shriek when she recognized Will's voice. As his boots sounded on the deck, Elizabeth was suddenly aware of the loss of Jack's body heat. With barely a creak of ropes, he had disappeared.

And just in time; Will rounded the corner and saw her standing, alone, with her hand at her throat. "Liz?"

"You startled me," she said, her voice pitched high with distress. Will frowned at her, his brow furrowed. "Sorry," he said gently. "What are you doing out here?"

She shrugged. "Couldn't sleep. After so long on land, it's sometimes hard to sleep on the water."

He nodded, and then held out a hand to her. "Well, come back to bed, at least." His brown eyes regarded her with an expression she couldn't place, and she accepted his hand, wracked with guilt yet again.

After three days, the tension growing between them was too much to bear, and Will made a weak excuse about hearing of a proposed massacre off the African Coast. Elizabeth merely agreed quietly and gathered their things. William put up a bit of a fuss; he had begun to notice that he didn't spend as much time as his father as his little friends from the village, and the reasoning was beyond him, and when Elizabeth snapped at him in her anger at herself, he resorted to pouting.

Will bid her a brief farewell as the Dutchman linked boards with the Pearl, but spent a bit more time with his moping son, and though Elizabeth didn't hear their exchange, William was noticeably brighter as he tromped onto the Pearl. "Dad's gonna teach me some new moves next time we see him," he reported to his mother.

"Wonderful," Elizabeth enthused. The boards separated with a clank and the Dutchman disappeared with a ferocious splash, taking Elizabeth's hope of reconciliation with her husband with it to the bottom of the sea.

They took a more direct course back to her island than usual, Jack noting, but not commenting, on her subdued mood. When he delivered her and William to her house and turned to leave, she stopped him with a gentle hand on his sleeve. "I'm sorry."

He shook his head. "Don' be. I know this double life can't be easy on you." He tossed her a saucy wink, but it fell flat in the anxious atmosphere. She dropped her eyes. "I don't know that you'll need to come by next year, Jack."

She felt his reaction and hurried to look up. "No, not like that," she assured him, smoothing the line of rejection that formed between his browns with her hand. "It's not that I don't want to see you. I just don't know that Will will want to see me." It hurt to admit it, aloud, and it was his turn to comfort her, brushing his hand along her smooth cheek before he disappeared below the sandy ridge, leaving her alone with her pain.

* * *


	7. Year Seven

Disclaimer: All recognizable characters belong to Disney.

* * *

A/N: No heinous wait this time. A bit of a shorter chapter, but what it lacks in length it makes up for in content, I hope. Thanks to all who reviewed, and who hadn't given up on this story. Hopefully I've addressed the concerns of those who said Jack was a bit out of character. He still is, but within the parameters of the events of this chapter. Huge thanks for the constructive criticism - it's almost as nice as the glowing praise :)

* * *

Summary: As Jack ferries Elizabeth Turner between her island and her husband, their relationship grows into something no one could have ever foreseen. J/E.

* * *

**Between Dark and Light: A Decade of Love  
**By: Sinnamon Spider

**Year Seven**

* * *

A knock sounded on the door and Elizabeth leapt to her feet, dropping her knitting on the table as she passed by. Jack was due again in a few days, and after his early arrival last year, she had been packed and ready for a week now.

It was not Jack, however, who stood on her dirt path. Jeremiah Able, now fourteen and as tall as his father, grinned at her with the same buoyancy he had for the past seven years. "'Lo, Mrs Turner."

"Jeremiah!" Elizabeth exclaimed. She hadn't seen much of the boy lately, but she knew he had been accompanying William to the village school and back. She motioned him inside. "Where've you been hiding lately?" she asked, handing him a fresh roll from the basket on the table.

He swallowed the mouthful of warm bread. "I been working for Dad, he's kept me busy. Very tough taskmaster, he is." He grinned and Elizabeth returned the smile, sure that soft-spoken, mild Christopher Able would let his son get away with murder. Jeremiah continued. "Got a message from Captain Willand. He ran into Captain Sparrow, and he said to tell you that Sparrow will be about a week late."

"Oh." Elizabeth's spirits, raised at the mention of Jack's name, fell a little. Jeremiah, already tuned to a woman's expression, nodded in commiseration. "Must be hard for you, to be separated from your husband this way," he said.

She deftly turned the conversation away from that delicate topic. "And you're far too young to be concerning yourself with such things, sir." She handed him another roll and he tore into it. "Thank you for the message, and give your mum a kiss for me, won't you?"

He nodded, just as serious about his errand as he had been the day he brought her Jack's letter, clutched tightly in his fist, and changed her life. She watched him go with a wistful smile.

* * *

Jack was officially two days late, and Elizabeth was growing more and more anxious, memories of the last time he had failed to arrive replaying in her head. William fled the house at every chance, eager to escape her constant pacing and worried face.

"Mum, I'm going to go over to Able's, see if Jeremiah needs any help," he said, watching his mother travel the length of their cottage in a few quick steps with a pained expression. Elizabeth looked up and nodded sharply. There was no use in making him miserable as well.

William headed for the door, but paused, and then returned to his mother's side. "He's coming, Mum, don't worry. We'll get to see Dad soon."

His child's innocence paired with the faintest hints of a man's concern made tears spring to her eyes, and she stopped her circuit of the room to gently brush his face, unable to tell him that it wasn't Will she was eager to see. He ducked away from the caress, old enough already to be embarrassed by too much mothering, and crossed back to open the door.

"'Ello, lad."

"Jack!" Two voices echoed the cry, and the pirate blinked, flustered. William beamed up at him. "You're late," he said. Jack nodded. "Aye. Ran into a few snags on me way over." He cocked his head. "Where're you runnin' off to?"

"Able's store," William replied. He looked back at his mother. "Still okay if I go, Mum?"

Elizabeth nodded, barely noticing as her son disappeared past the pirate. Jack turned his eyes to her and there was a fierce light in them. She covered the distance between them in a step. "Jack," she murmured, reaching for him, but he held her at arm's length, ignoring the frown that spread over her face.

"I found it," he said, and his voice was intense with some emotion she couldn't name.

"Found what?" she asked, almost afraid.

She suddenly found herself in his arms as he whirled her around, catching her in a dizzy spiral and when he set her down again, her head was still spinning. "For God's sake, Jack," she protested, but his face was glowing and his delight was now evident. She grabbed his hands, staring at him. "Found what?"

"Immortality, Elizabeth." He kissed her hard, unexpectedly, and when they broke apart she was even more dizzy. "What on earth are you talking about?"

He freed his hands from hers, rummaging through his layers of clothing to produce a small glass bottle. He held it before her eyes. "Aqua de Vida."

She gaped. "You – you found it? You found the Fountain of Youth?"

He only grinned that enigmatic grin at her, the one that made her breath catch and had done for nearly a decade; that trademark grin that spoke of adventure and the sea and only hinted at the irrepressible spirit it contained. She suddenly needed to sit down.

He was on his knees before her, and this was the Jack Sparrow she had fallen in love with; the sharp-eyed pirate with the wicked smile, not the sad, jaded creature he had become – that she had turned him into, by burdening him with her indecision and selfish heart. This man, more than a man, was a being of darkness and energy and insatiable hunger for life and its spoils. This was the Jack she had loved when she was only a girl and opened her eyes, thoughts turning from a watery death to a life she had only ever imagined, and found him gazing back with more intensity than she had ever experienced.

This was Elizabeth Swann's Jack, not Elizabeth Turner's.

A lump was forming in her throat, but she had done enough damage to him, so she swallowed hard. "H-how can you be sure?"

"Tested it," he replied, tucking the bottle back into his clothes. "Killed a hare, and poured the water over it. It came back to life. Hopped off with a very disgruntled look."

"Are you sure it was dead?" she asked. It wasn't doubt in his truthfulness anymore; he had become more and more honest with her, over the years. But such a fanciful story seemed impossible…

'_Not when you've seen the dead walk the earth and a goddess return to form,'_ a voice in her head whispered.

"Positive. 'Twas deader th'n dead."

She believed it. How could she not, after everything she had seen, after the man who now knelt before her had once died in front of her eyes? But she unexpectedly felt very, very alone.

Jack had his immortality, clutched in his fingers. He had finally seized the thing he had been after for years. He would sail the seas forever, freed from death.

Will was immortal too, unless someone stabbed the heart she kept under her floor. He would still be ferrying souls to the other side years after she was gone.

And how soon would that be?

Was this her punishment? To lose the two men she loved, as she slipped into old age or was stolen away by some feverish illness? To watch them, still young and beautiful and vibrant, from her deathbed?

Jack, still on his knees in front of her, caught the shift in her mood, intuitive as always. He reached for her hands this time, and waited until her eyes met his. "What, love?"

She nearly told him, nearly spilled her fears to him, but even as she parted her lips, she watched a bit of the intensity fade from his eyes, replaced by concern. There was still a way to kill him, immortal though he was, and Elizabeth would not be his murderer for a second time. She lifted her chin, speaking in a voice braver than she felt.

"Nothing. I'm very happy for you, Jack."

He raised an eyebrow at that, but let it pass. "So 'm I," he said cheekily, and when she smiled at him, his expression brightened again.

"Who else drank?" she asked, curious despite her distress. Jack shook his head. "None of us did. Gibbs'd have naught to do with it, said it was to spit at the gods." His expressive lips smirked. "I did more than spit at 'em."

It was her turn to raise an eyebrow. "Well, you're not to take the water from the fountain," he explained, and her laughter was honest now.

"You stole it!"

He held up his hands in defence. "Borrowed! Borrowed without permission. And a devil of a time I had t' do it, too. Hoodwinkin' goddesses is not as easy as ye'd think."

"Goddesses?"

"Aye, fountain was guarded by a goddess. Y'had to do the usual ritual, bit o' blood sacrifice, that old thing. But she was a watchful thing, and very lippy. Reminded me of you." He winked at her and she couldn't decide whether to be flattered or not. She settled for shaking her head. He never stopped surprising her. "How did you get the bottle past her?"

His eyes glinted. "Persuasion."

She fell into their familiar routine. "Friendly?"

"Decidedly."

A flash of jealousy coursed through her, but her inner voice loudly protested that she was the married one, not him.

"There's nary a female who doesn't respond to my personal brand of…persuasion, goddess or mortal," he continued, and her heart lifted to see him immodest and self-assured again. She hadn't realized the effect her selfishness had been having on him, and to see the old Jack, the impertinent pirate with the silver tongue and heart of tarnished gold, was comforting.

"I'm sure," she replied dryly, and when he tossed her a look of mock effrontery, it was like the past years had slipped away and she was Elizabeth Swann again, young and proud and spellbound by this ephemeral man of smoke and mirrors.

She stood, and he followed suit. "Got your things together?" he asked. She nodded. "Yes. We'll stop by Able's and pick up my vagabond son, who never seems to want to be at home anymore."

"Ah, he's just coming into that restless age," he said knowingly. She rolled her eyes. "He's six, Jack."

"And so? When I was six, I'd already set me mind to becoming an admiral in the Royal Navy."

She laughed at that, trying to imagine him in Norrington's stiff uniform and wig and failing. "And how ever did that dream fall through the cracks?" she asked, turning to gather her bundles.

With her back turned, she didn't see the flash of something dark and painful, something old and half-buried, light in his eyes. "I haven't an idea," he said airily, but his fingers moved to run across the letter that had seared into his flesh and sealed his fate, all those years ago. "Let's go collect your wayward boy." He spoke with determination, forcing the remembrances of the past from his mind, and escorted her out of the cottage.

* * *

When they reached the rendezvous point, the Dutchman was already waiting. As the ships linked up, Elizabeth couldn't help the fear that was settling in on her. She and Will had not parted well last time, and she was worried about what could fester and atrophy in a year of silence and separation.

But her heart lifted slightly when she crossed the boards to find him waiting, and she could see her own trepidation reflected on his open face. He greeted his son with enthusiasm, but when William had gone off with his grandfather to the helm, Will turned to face his wife, his heart in his eyes.

She saw forgiveness and regret and no small amount of pain, and she ran to him, collapsing in his arms. "Will," she sighed, and felt the answering kiss on the side of her head.

"I'm sorry, Elizabeth," he murmured into her hair. "I acted like a fool, and I hurt you, and I ruined what little time we get to spend with each other."

She nearly apologized for hurting him, until she recalled that he didn't yet know – for certain – that she was doing anything wrong. But she couldn't accept his apology and prove herself a hypocrite, so she simply held him tighter. His strong arms around her acted like balm to her injured soul for the rift between them, for her loneliness in mortality, and for her constant destruction of Jack's indomitable spirit.

She could feel Jack's eyes on her as Will led her to his cabin, but she did not dare look at him.

Elizabeth and William lounged on the Dutchman for nearly two weeks, soaking in Will and the sun. They took day trips to other islands in the area, always shadowed by the Pearl, although Jack hung quite far back, as though afraid to draw closer and spoil their day. Even Will noticed, commenting that Jack hadn't been around very much, and Elizabeth's heart nearly stopped.

Will had spent an enormous amount of time with his son and his wooden sword; now that the boy had mastered the basics, he could be taught some of the finer points.

"He's a natural," Will commented to Elizabeth, who was standing on the upper deck and watching William practice what he had learned that day. She smiled at her husband. "Well, it's only to be expected, he being taught by three of the greatest pirates of the age."

Will was not one to hold grudges, and he made no comment on her lumping Jack in with William's teachers. "With a Pirate King and the Dutchman's captain as parents, he's bound to be something else, isn't he?" he said softly.

Unseen by him, Elizabeth bit her lip. Her eyes drifted to the Pearl, a dark smear on the darkening water. "Yes," she said absently.

Will turned the conversation to his son's performance at the village school, and Elizabeth forced her attention away from the silent black ship that hung at the edge of her vision like a ghost.

* * *

"Enjoy your time with your fish, love?"

Elizabeth half turned from where she stood at the deck rail. She had been expecting him; when she had slipped from his bed, just as she did from her husband's, he had been asleep, but he never slept very deeply.

"Yes," she said truthfully, but she was plagued with indecision yet again. She stood stiffly as he came up behind her, placing his hands over hers on the deck rail, but she could only ever yield to him, and she did again, letting his lips trail along her neck.

One hand lifted free of hers, disappeared from view, and reappeared holding the small glass bottle, the Water of Life reflecting black in the dark. He pressed the bottle between her fingers. She clutched at it reflexively, but twisted to look at him.

His face was unreadable in the dark, only his eyes glinting in the moonlight. "What's this?" she asked. He snorted. "Aqua de Vida. Wasn't that long ago, was it?"

She frowned. "I know what it is, Jack. Why are you giving it to me?"

He mirrored her expression. "I got it for you."

"_What?"_

The bottle had suddenly begun to burn her skin, and she nearly dropped it. She stared at him, horrorstruck.

He was careworn and concerned again, leeching away the dark pirate and leaving a man weighed down with responsibilities. "I got it for you, Lizzie. This way, even if y'can't see Will but once every so often, at least he won't come back to you agin' every year, getting older and older while he stays young. T'would be a dreadful way to see your beloved go." He tilted his head. "Consider it my final apology for getting you and him into this mess."

He looked past her, out to the water. "'Course, I can't pretend there's naught in it for me. This way, I get to keep you young and beautiful for meself as well, until I go."

"_No!"_

She was aghast. He had finally found his passage to eternity – and he was sacrificing it for her? So she could be with Will?

'_What have I done to him?'_

She thrust the bottle at him. "No, Jack, you can't. You just can't." He was looking at her now, but made no move to take the bottle. "This is your life's search! Immortality in your grasp, Jack Sparrow, and you would waste it on me?"

"Not waste," he said vehemently. "It wouldn't be a waste."

"Jack, what have I done to you?" She gave voice to it, finally, pleading with him. His hands gripped her arms, almost painfully, and his voice was sharp and darkly insistent.

"You made me love you, you chit. A pretty little girl, all trussed up in your fancy clothes and drownin'. I saved you and bound myself in the same action. 'Cause then you _weren't_ just a pretty little dressed-up ninny; God, if only you had been. But you were smart-mouthed and bright and a born fighter and stubborn as all hell. You were a pirate, even then." He shook her, almost violent in his fervour.

"You made me love you, Elizabeth Swann – Elizabeth _Turner_. You shackled me to the Pearl with your manacles and to your soul with your siren's kiss, and then you off and marry your bright-eyed blacksmith. And then what's poor old Jack to do? Poor old fool, he's got nothing left to do but search until he finds away to give you your blacksmith boy, forever, because he'd rather give up eternal life than see you unhappy."

His words were striking Elizabeth to the core, and she could only listen, caught in his tirade; the tirade she had brought about. But now his voice dropped lower, his anger cooling to a sinister coldness. "You bound me to you, Liz. And now all I can do is give you this bottle and wait until I die to be free of you, and God willing you won't come back to save me again."

She couldn't say anything, couldn't lash out at him because she deserved every word. She had made him love her, and killed him again in the process. She was like Medusa, turning everything she saw and loved to stone. And then his lips were on hers, fierce and bruising and she remembered what he'd said to her once.

"_Love and hate aren't opposites, Liz, only different sides of the same coin…"_

She struggled in his grasp and he let her go instantly. She fled to Gibbs' cabin, locking the door. She stayed there until they reached her island. When she emerged, Jack was nowhere in sight, and Gibbs was giving her a look that was equally pitying and accusing.

She and William made the climb up the sandy ridge to their cottage alone, and she didn't dare turn to watch the Pearl sail away. She knew it was never coming back.

It wasn't until that night that she realized she still had the bottle of Aqua de Vida.

* * *


	8. Year Eight

Disclaimer: All recognizable characters belong to Disney. All Shakespeare quotes belong to…whoever it is that owns Shakespeare.

* * *

A/N: Again I'm sorry for the fairly long wait. This chapter gave me some trouble, and what finally got me to sit down and finish it is slightly embarrassing – I spent a few hours watching J/E music videos on YouTube. Everyone needs a guilty pleasure. I also apologize in advance for the Shakespeare. I know it's terribly kitsch, but I really couldn't leave it out. The idea of Jack quoting Much Ado About Nothing just tickled my fancy. Enjoy!

* * *

Summary: As Jack ferries Elizabeth Turner between her island and her husband, their relationship grows into something no one could have ever foreseen. J/E.

* * *

**Between Dark and Light: A Decade of Love  
**By: Sinnamon Spider

**Year Eight**

* * *

Despite her certainty that Jack would not return to her island, Elizabeth packed her things anyways, around the time he was due. But he never came, and while William amused himself through the heat of the summer, she waited every day by the window with bated breath.

But soon, summer was turning to fall, and one day, Elizabeth could take it no longer. She threw a shawl on, wrapping it around her head and shoulders to shield her from the driving rain that had been falling for hours. William was gone, playing for the day at one of the village houses, and Elizabeth had been eternally grateful for the mother who was willing to sacrifice her home to two rambunctious seven-year-olds.

Squinting against the rain that pelted her face as she opened the door, she made the trek to the village at a near-run, darting inside Christopher Able's store with a shiver. Miriam Able poked her face out from the back room. "Liz, darling, where've you been?" The older woman disappeared before Elizabeth could answer, then reappeared with a steaming mug of coffee. She handed it to Elizabeth, who took it gratefully, wrapping her hands around the warmth. "I need a favour, Miriam," she said breathlessly.

Miriam smiled at her. "Anything for you, lovey. What's afoot?"

"I need to find Captain Sparrow."

Miriam's expression saddened as she heard Elizabeth's voice quiver. "Now, sweetheart, don't you fret. I'm sure Will would understand if you couldn't come this year."

Elizabeth shook her head. It was time to confess. "It's not about Will, Miriam, it's about Captain Sparrow. He and I…" She trailed off, unable to speak the words, not to this woman, whom she saw as a mother. But Miriam was nothing if not intelligent. She wrapped her arm around Elizabeth. "Oh dear. You've got quite a mess on your hands, lovey."

"I made him so angry last summer," Elizabeth continued, twisting her hands around the handle of the mug. "I don't think he's coming back. I have to find him. I have to set things right. I love…" Again she trailed off, biting her lip. Miriam nodded. "You love him. And Will too, if I'm not mistaken."

"Yes."

Rocking the younger woman gently, Miriam sighed. "Well, lovey, I'm not certain how to go about finding Sparrow. Willand is due in an hour; we can ask him if he's seen Sparrow, but aside from that…"

Elizabeth shook her head. "Finding him won't be a problem," she said. "I know where to start looking, at least, and he usually leaves a trail of angry people who are more than happy to rat out where he's hiding." She looked up at Miriam. "No, I need you to look after William while I'm gone. I can't bring him with me, not while I'm in Tortuga and such places."

"Don't worry, Liz," Miriam said comfortingly. "Chris and I will keep him here long as you need. I'm sure Jeremiah and Lacey would love to have someone else to play with, 'specially if this rain keeps up like this."

Elizabeth set her mug down on the store counter and turned to embrace the older woman. "Thank you so much, Miriam."

"You just be careful," Miriam warned her with a mother's insistence. "I'm not very fond of the idea of you mucking about with pirates and such rot."

Elizabeth smiled weakly. Pirates didn't scare her. After all, she was still technically their king – she had never relinquished her power, in all these years. She didn't know how much sway the position would give her, but after tangling with the likes of Barbossa and Jones, the common bilge rat didn't worry her at all.

Thanking Miriam again, she stepped back out into the pouring rain, hurrying back to her cottage. Inside, she dug through her trunk of clothing. "Ah!" she exclaimed aloud, pulling the boy's clothes she had worn to hide on the Edinburgh Trader from the bottom of the trunk. They still fit; she had not gained much weight carrying William, and had dropped it soon after he was born, and even now she was as slim as she'd ever been.

She also removed a thin leather pouch, into which she stuffed all the money she had, kept buried under a floorboard, far from Will's heart. Along with the money, wrapped carefully in a soft cloth to keep it from breaking, was the tiny glass bottle of Aqua de Vida. She hadn't even looked at it since burying it here. She slipped it into the pouch, and tucked the pouch into her breeches, strapping it to her thigh.

Her high leather boots and her sword and belt were stashed behind a board in the tiny closet. She strapped the belt around her waist, feeling the familiar weight of the hilt against her hip. It was the sword she had taken from the Empress, Sao Feng's ship, after he had named her captain; the same sword she had used to claim his place at Shipwreck Cove, thrusting it into the globe as Jack squawked his disbelief. It was the same sword she had battled Jones with, until he knocked her aside and stabbed his own sword into her new husband's chest. It was the same sword she had stuck in the sand on the beach of this very island, eight years ago, when she and Will spent their single day together.

She quickly braided her hair and stole William's leather cap before heading out. But she paused at the door, looking back at her son's bed. She couldn't spare the time to stop and see him, and it would only lead to questions as to why she was dressed like a man. But it was breaking her heart to leave him without any word as to why she was gone.

She shook her head fiercely. Willand was due in an hour, Miriam had said. She peered over the ridge, searching for his ship at the dock, and once she glimpsed white sails, she hurried down the ridge to steal aboard the ship.

* * *

After spending six months traversing the seven seas, Elizabeth was one step behind Jack and the Black Pearl. Travelling on her authority as Pirate King – which she often had to fight for, crossing blades with over half the Pirate Lords – she had traced the Pearl nearly in a full circle around the globe to where she had started, in Tortuga. Barbossa had brought her the last leg of the journey, and they were now approaching a small island off the coast of Cuba, which was rumoured to be the last place the Pearl had been seen. As they came up on the coast, Elizabeth's heart swelled. "Finally," she whispered.

The Black Pearl was anchored in a shallow cove. The crisp sea breeze was snapping the black sails and the crew was swarming around the decks and in the rigging. Although it had been only a year since she had seen her, the ship was more beautiful than she remembered, floating in the green-blue water.

Jack was aboard her. Hopefully he would consent to speak to her.

"Be ye sure this is what ye want, Elizabeth?" Barbossa had appeared beside her, as grizzled and foreboding as ever. He had demanded to see her piece of eight before allowing her aboard his newly commandeered ship, the Lady's Emerald (he had spun her a wonderful tale about the dowager duchess he had seduced and robbed of her prized jewel and her dead merchant husband's ship).

After destroying the Endeavour and seeing the armada out of the Devil's Throat, the Brethren, along with Will (who was to be sworn in as the Pirate Lord of the Sea Beyond the Sea), had met briefly aboard the Dutchman to discuss their future. Without the pieces of eight that had bound the sea goddess, they had no way of confirming their lordship and passing on their status to others. So once again, the royalty of the pirate world dug into their pockets and bodices to produce random trinkets that would become their talismans. Elizabeth had contributed her family signet ring, Will selected his father's knife, and Jack produced a fearful looking Kraken tooth he had ripped out as the beast had swallowed him whole. They had also taken this opportunity to allow Elizabeth to remain Pirate King until the next meeting of the Court – something they had all conveniently forgotten when they were faced with her – but with severely reduced powers, including the necessity of a majority rule for any key decisions.

After closely examining the ring that Elizabeth now wore on a chain around her neck, Barbossa had ushered her about the Emerald with his usual sinister pageantry, and agreed to assist her in finding Jack, if only "B'cause the swine made off with me favourite hat, and I'll run him through fer it."

His vicious-looking crew, which made Elizabeth more uncomfortable than any pirates she had ever encountered, treated her with deference, and she assumed that their captain had drilled into their heads that she was their King.

She looked at him, and she could swear there was concern somewhere deep in those arctic blue eyes. She smothered a smile. "Yes," she said seriously. "I've got to talk with him." She withdrew the bottle of Aqua de Vida from her pocket. "And return this to him."

She had been reluctant to mention the bottle to Barbossa, afraid he would steal it from her, but he reminded her that he'd already had a taste of eternal life, and would be quite happy to pass on to the next world when the time came.

"Frightful stubborn jackass, he is," Barbossa commented conversationally. "He won' look kindly on ye. Y've done him harm; he let ye get too close, and we all know what happens when Jack Sparrow lets people get too close." He followed his words with a vicious grin of yellow teeth – Jack had let him get close, and he had betrayed his captain in the worst way possible. He never was remorseful, Elizabeth noted.

"I know," she said, squinting at a tiny figure at the helm of the Pearl and wondering if it was Jack. "I've turned him into a shadow of himself. I owe it to him to give him back his soul."

Barbossa snorted indelicately. "He won' take it from ye." He pierced her with those sharp eyes. "He's tied into ye now, lass, and he's a selfish one, don't let go easy. Only once ever I seen him so close with a lady as he is with ye."

"Who?" she asked, curious. Jack had never seemed to be a one-woman man.

'_Then what made you think you could make him one?'_ that merciless voice in her head whispered. She ignored it.

Barbossa nodded in the Pearl's direction. "The Pearl," he said. "His first love, she was, when she was still the Wicked Wench. He loved her so much, he sold his soul t' the devil t' get her back. Then he sold it again – t' ye."

"And I may as well be the devil, for all I've done to him," she said sadly. "I'm worse than Jones."

Barbossa shrugged, not one to argue with the truth. "Aye, that be true. But he loves ye still, he does. He's a stubborn jackass, though, and he'll fight it t' the end, but he'll come 'round sooner or later."

Despite the harsh words, Elizabeth took heart. Jack had forgiven her for the most heinous crime committable – his own murder at her hands. If she could not free him from herself, at least she could seek his forgiveness for her crimes.

'_His precious Pearl never betrayed him like you have,'_ the ruthless voice hissed. She shook her head, willing it away.

* * *

One of Barbossa's crew rowed her to the shore, and she crossed the white sand toward where the footprints of the Pearl's crew led into the dense jungle. But just before she reached the copse of trees, she noticed a familiar figure examining a pile of stones a few feet from where she stood.

"Jack," she breathed, and his head lifted from its concentration. He didn't turn, but she watched his shoulders stiffen. His voice sounded sharply across the sand, carried on the sweet breeze. "What, my dear Lady Disdain! Are you yet living?"

She blinked, astonished – had he just thrown _Shakespeare_ at her? She knew he was clever, but Shakespeare committed to memory?

She held out a hand, replying with her own quotation. "The quality of mercy is not strain'd. It droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven upon the place beneath. It is twice blest: it blesseth him that gives and him that takes." Her voice was soft.

He turned, and his face was expressionless. "Frailty, thy name is woman."

Stung now, she returned the barb, her words sharp and sarcastic. "O, what a noble mind is here o'erthrown!"

He took a step toward her, purposeful and determined. "Do you think I am easier to be played on than a pipe? Call me what instrument you will, though you can fret me, you cannot play upon me."

She broke the battle of wits. "Jack, please…" She had planned a whole speech, but the words had left her.

He took another step towards her, tilting his head. "How did you get here?"

She waved a hand behind her. "Barbossa. He brought me."

"Ah," Jack nodded. "Revenge for me liberating him of that ridiculous hat, I suppose." He gestured at his head, but the hat he wore was his familiar old leather tricorn. Elizabeth absently wondered what he'd done with Barbossa's hat. She had spent too much time and energy to get there to allow Jack to be skewered.

He was still talking. "Did he tell you how he acquired the Emerald?" he asked, squinting at her.

"Of course."

"And you found no issue with his methods?"

She shrugged. "It's Hector Barbossa. He is what he is; I would have expected nothing less than seduction and pilfering."

Jack nodded agreeably. "He is what he is," he repeated. Elizabeth frowned, wondering where he was going with this. He was acting the same way he had when they'd found him in the Locker; slightly off-kilter, highly suspicious, and aggressively dispassionate towards her.

"He is what he is, and I am what I am, and you are what you are, and we're all here happy to be what we are, is that it?"

She was still confused, but that was a question she could answer. "No, Jack. At least I'm not happy being what I am." She closed the remaining distance between them, disguising the hurt she felt when he flinched away. She looked down, speaking her next words to the sand.

"I know what I've done to you, Jack, and I'm sorry. I never intended for it to go this far. I never intended to shackle you to me."

"The road to hell, love," he returned absently. She looked up; he had gone back to staring at his rocks. She followed him. "Please, Jack. I came to find you – I couldn't leave things the way they were between us. If you can't bear to be with me anymore, then at least forgive me for what I did – what I never meant to do."

Again he didn't bother to look at her, issuing his words to the blasted rocks that held his attention. "And how many times must I absolve you of your sins, Elizabeth?"

"I…" She couldn't tell him, couldn't bring voice to how many times she had wronged this man and asked him to exonerate her, and how many times he had done so. Every teasing glance, every "accidental" touch, every excuse she made to be near him; her very presence was betrayal to him.

Blinking back the tears that were welling in her eyes, she brushed past him without looking at him, setting the tiny glass bottle on the pile of rocks he was so enamoured with. "This belongs to you," she said, still not meeting his eyes, afraid of what she would see in them. "I can't express what it means to me that you would choose to give up your own chance at immortality for me, but I can't accept it." She swallowed the lump in her throat. "A neverending life would be nothing without you, Jack."

She lifted her head proudly, and walked away across the sand. Every step without hearing his voice was hell on earth. She walked on.

"Come back to me, my Elizabeth," he called to her, mockingly, but under the sardonic words was truth, longing, sincerity. She paused, hardly daring to hope.

He grabbed her hand and spun her around to face him. He had a strange expression on his swarthy face; a mixture of hatred and worship, fear and hope, distrust and joy. "You would condemn me to a neverending life without you? What's good for the goose is no good for the gander, eh?"

She stared at him, perplexed. "You hate me."

He nodded. "I do. But flip that coin over, Elizabeth. What's on the other side?"

"Love…" she answered, her lips moving of their own accord. But she shook her head fiercely. "I can't stand that, Jack; I can't have you hate me one second and love me the next. You're impossible to follow as it is."

He scowled at her. "It's always about you, isn't it? Conceited." He reached out and grasped her chin firmly. "You've tied me to you now, Elizabeth Swann, and you'll not rid yourself of me that easily, nor me of you."

She barely heard what the rest of what he said. He had called her Elizabeth Swann. Her maiden name, the name she wore when he dragged her onto the pier at Port Royal and breathed life back into her staid, formal world.

How many names had she carried since that day? She had nearly been Elizabeth Norrington, until James had freed her from her hasty promise. She had been Elizabeth Swann, Pirate King, a title bestowed upon her by a darkly intelligent man with his own agenda. She had become Elizabeth Turner in the middle of a blinding storm, fighting for her life while pledging it to Will.

But what of Elizabeth Sparrow?

She remembered that day on the Pearl, when she had sat on the stairs and pouted. _'I just thought I'd be married by now,' _she had whined to Jack when he came over, bottle of rum in hand. '_I'm so ready to be married.'_

She remembered his seemingly-casual offer of the rum bottle, his seemingly-offhand remark about being captain of a ship. _'And being captain of a ship I could, in fact, perform a marr-iage right here. Right on this deck. Right…now.' _And he had leaned into her, smelling of rum and excitement and danger, and she had been sorely tempted to accept his offer. Her weakness, her near-miss with his charm and his smile, had inspired the venom behind her turndown. _'No, thank you.'_

She had regretted that no; regretted not being able to be spontaneous and live for the moment, not being able to accept him and his world of adventure and danger. She had passed it off as simply his usual rum-fueled insanity and tried to push it from her mind.

Tried, and failed.

Could she ever be Elizabeth Sparrow?

She looked at him. He was silent for once, waiting for her to respond, his fingers still strong on her chin. He was all seriousness, but there was a spark in those mahogany eyes that she hadn't seen in a long time.

'_Not now, it's all too much too soon. But perhaps one day…'_

"Jack Sparrow!"

The gravelly shout broke the spell that had been cast, and both of them jumped, Jack peering over her shoulder to see Barbossa striding across the beach, sword in hand. "Ah. Hector."

Elizabeth turned to face the older man, and blinked as he raised his sword to point at Jack, cowering behind her. "About me hat."

Jack gestured to his head. "Haven't got it, as y'can see. Pity you've lost it, though." He nodded conversationally at Elizabeth. "Very nice. Lots of feathers."

"You have it, ye thievin' wretch," Barbossa snapped. "Probably squirreled it away on my ship." He waved a hand at the Pearl.

Jack pointed from behind Elizabeth toward the Lady's Emerald. "_That's_ your ship. Lost it on your own ship, have ye? Frightfully careless of you, mate." He dodged the slash Barbossa made at him, skittering away across the sand like a weird crab, with the other pirate in hot pursuit. Elizabeth rolled her eyes, but her laughter rang out. This was where she belonged.

* * *

After Jack had produced the hat, which, inexplicably, had been stuffed into his left boot, Barbossa left, bidding Elizabeth a leery goodbye. "Told ye. Stubborn ass, he is; he'll never consent to bein' freed from you."

Elizabeth smiled her thanks. She watched the pirate climb into his longboat, wanting to make sure he was on his way before she turned her back on him. She trusted Barbossa when it came to herself, but not so much with Jack.

'_Speak of the devil…'_

He had ambled back to the pile of rocks she had found him at, kneeling beside them now and making curious gestures with his hands. She sat down beside him, pulling off her boots and stretching her toes in the white sand. "What on earth are you looking for?"

"A sign from the gods," he replied, standing and measuring the height of the rocks against his legs. "There's a temple on this island somewhere, hidden away, and it's rumoured to contain a very special sacred item."

"And you're planning on stealing it."

He was walking around the pile of rocks toe-to-toe to measure its circumference. "Of course not. I'm going to borrow it for the purpose of study and analyzing." Suddenly he paused and looked around. "Where's young William?" he asked, only just noticing that the boy was not there.

Elizabeth rolled her eyes. "Obviously I wasn't going to bring him with me while I traipsed all over the world looking for you." She trailed her finger in the sand, drawing abstract designs. "Besides…there's too much he doesn't know, too much he's still too young to be told. I had to confront a lot of my more unsavoury past on this trip, it was best he didn't see it."

Jack snorted from his position, now standing on his head to observe the rocks upside-down. "What boy wouldn't be delighted to know his mother was a rogue and a ruffian?" he demanded. He rolled neatly over his shoulder, and she was again reminded that his clumsiness was merely an act to throw people off. He removed his hat to dust the sand from it. "Well, I'm convinced," he said matter-of-factly.

"Of what?" she asked.

"Of this being just a pile of rocks and in fact not secret and ancient directions to the temple."

"Oh dear," Elizabeth commiserated, but brightly. "Shall we be off?"

Jack squinted at the jungle. "Aye, I suppose," he said, not sounding overly disappointed. "We can always come back another day. Just have to wait for the crew to return." He settled down beside her, tracing her lines in the sand with a dirty finger. She continued her line in a spiral until her hand collided with his, and was rewarded when his fingers tangled with hers. She leaned in against him, resting her head on his shoulder. "Oh, Jack," she said softly. "Why are we destined for so much trouble?"

He shrugged, but gently, so as to not jar her head. "I'm supposing it's to atone for a lifetime of wickedness – for my part, at least. You haven't quite led a lifetime, but you have made up for your late start with a few very busy years."

Elizabeth didn't reply, but instead mulled over his words. She didn't consider herself overly wicked, but it took only a few seconds of proper thought for her to change her opinion. She had killed many, been at least partly responsible for the death of her father, committed countless acts of adultery, and abandoned her child. She had cheated and lied and swindled and deceived her way through the world, leaving scars on lives that would have been otherwise untouched.

"That statement was meant to lift your spirits, not depress you," Jack admonished, giving her a look of mock annoyance. "It's hardly proper for a pirate to be depressed. Especially a Pirate King."

She sighed. "It's not so simple. You just made me think of all the wicked things I've done. And it seems there are more than I thought, and they're worse than I thought."

"No one lives a life completely devoid of evil, Liz, least of all a pirate. Most of us don't even try anymore."

"Mmm," she hummed. "I suppose there's nothing I can do about it. At least until Judgment Day."

Jack suppressed a shiver. "Not my favourite topic of conversation, love."

She shook her head. "'Nor mine."

"Jack! Elizabeth!"

The crew had returned. The couple on the sand hurried to their feet. Elizabeth was hesitant to make eye contact with Gibbs, but when she did, she was relieved to see a similar look of relief on his craggy face. "Jack," the First Mate addressed his captain, "we found the temple."

"You what?" Jack gaped at the older man. Gibbs shrugged. "It's the same one we visited on the way to the Isla de Muerta, the first time we went. You took the idol and then it was stolen when we were waylaid by those Turkish boys."

Jack continued to stare, open-mouthed, at him. "Didn't you recognize the island?" Gibbs asked. The captain didn't answer; instead, he spun around to stare at the pile of rocks. "Of course!" he yelped. "This pile of rocks _was_ in fact secret and ancient directions to the temple. Then I moved them around." He whirled back to glare at Gibbs. "Why did you let me sit here and try to steal something I'd already stolen?"

Gibbs gestured helplessly. "I've never been one to question your motives or actions, Captain. I figured you knew what you were doing."

Jack sniffed. "Well, perhaps it's time you did start questioning me, Master Gibbs," he ordered, rather petulantly. He waved an imperious hand at the rest of the crew. "Make ready to cast off."

"Are you sure, Captain?" Gibbs asked, affecting a look of skepticism. Jack glared again. "Don't question my motives or my actions, Master Gibbs." He set off across the sand, leaving Gibbs to stare after him, hands spread in supplication, and Elizabeth trying unsuccessfully to smother her laughter.

* * *

Jack and Elizabeth climbed the sandy ridge to her cottage in silence. At the door, Jack spoke. "Are you sure y'don't want to see if we can't find Will? We've still got a ways before winter sets in."

Elizabeth shook her head. "It can wait. I'd rather not get caught in a storm or something of the like." She tilted her head sadly. "Are you sure you can't stay?"

He smiled ruefully. "Wish I could, but I have a number of interests in play that need my attention." He brushed his fingers along her jaw, and was rewarded when she threw her arms around his neck and kissed him fiercely. "Here," he said when they broke apart. He reached into his vest and drew out the bottle of Aqua de Vida. "You keep this."

She shook her head violently, opening her mouth to argue, but he placed a gentle hand over her mouth. "Just to keep it safe, you infuriating girl. You seem t'be good at guarding important things."

An impish grin flickered in her eyes and she suddenly licked his palm. "Ugh!" He snatched the hand back, making a show of wiping it on his filthy shirt. He tapped her on the nose. "I'll be back at the usual time." Giving her a wink, he disappeared down the ridge.

Her heart lighter than it had been in months, Elizabeth tucked the Water of Life into her bodice and set off to collect her son.

* * *


	9. Year Nine

Disclaimer: All recognizable characters belong to Disney.

* * *

A/N: "Apologies for the endless wait" seems to be my catchphrase for this story. It started off running so smoothly and now my muse seems to have grown disinterested and I have to threaten her with violence to get her moving with it. Fear not, though, we've got one more chapter to go and then the epilogue, which is almost complete. We're getting there! Thank god I gave myself a nice short decade to work with!

As always, many thanks to those who reviewed, and for your unending patience when I abandon everything on the side of the road =) .

* * *

Summary: As Jack ferries Elizabeth Turner between her island and her husband, their relationship grows into something no one could have ever foreseen. J/E.

* * *

**Between Dark and Light: A Decade of Love  
**By: Sinnamon Spider

**Year Nine**

* * *

Elizabeth swore as she pricked her finger yet again. Setting William's trousers aside – they were impossibly short, but she hadn't yet been able to get him a new pair and was reduced to lengthening the old ones – she sucked the bead of blood that welled to the surface with a resigned expression. She had still not gotten any better at sewing, despite having plenty of practice with a young boy's constant need for mending.

"Mum?" Said young boy looked up from his place next to the fire, where he was dutifully stirring the stew they would have for supper. She removed the injured finger from her mouth. "Yes?"

"Will you tell me now?"

She frowned at him. "Tell you what?"

Her son dropped the wooden spoon onto the hearth with a clatter and bounded over to where she sat at the table. "Where you were all summer? You promised you'd tell me someday."

She laughed. "I meant someday a bit later, when you're older."

He looked pleadingly at her. "I'm old enough for anything, Mum. Jack told me he was already at sea at my age."

Glaring in the direction of the ocean, Elizabeth snorted. "Did he? Well, Jack is not your mother, thank heavens." She returned to her sewing, ignoring her son's heavy sigh. They sat in silence for a few minutes.

"Mum?"

"Yes, William?"

"Is Jack a pirate?"

Elizabeth's needle slipped again, piercing her flesh, but she hardly noticed the sting of pain. She dropped the trousers. "What would make you think that?"

William shrugged. "I heard Jeremiah's dad talking to Captain Willand. Mr Able said that he thought Jack was a pirate, and Willand said he'd heard things about the Pearl." He traced a finger along the carving Jack had done in the table a few years ago. "And he looks like a pirate."

Elizabeth sighed. She had hoped not to have this conversation for years to come, but her son was as inquisitive and curious as his father. "Well, what if Jack is a pirate?"

It was a typical boy's reaction. William's face lit up, his eyes sparking with excitement. "Is he, then? That's amazing! Wait till I tell everyone I know a real pirate! And I've been on his ship! Is that why he's such a good swordfighter?"

Elizabeth hadn't expected such interest and her tongue stilled, but only for a second before lashing out to protect Jack. "William Turner! You must _never_ tell anyone that Jack is a pirate! Do you understand me?"

Her vehemence startled her bubbling son into silence, his brown eyes wide.

"Piracy is against the law. It is punished by death. It's a very serious crime and if there is even mere mention of it, a person can be punished." She stared at William, her expression fierce. "You must never let it slip that Jack is a pirate. The law doesn't take into consideration that he is a good man."

She retrieved her abandoned sewing and continued to let down the trousers of the young boy who was still watching her with anxious eyes. William waited until the frown lines had disappeared from around her mouth to speak again. "Mum?"

Elizabeth sighed. "Yes?"

"If Jack is a – " The boy dropped his voice to a bare whisper " – _pirate_ – " then resumed his normal volume " – then is Dad a pirate too?"

She pinched the bridge of her nose, then set aside the trousers once again. Clearly there would be no avoiding the subject. She gently clasped her son's hands in hers. "Yes. But he's not the same kind of pirate as Jack."

"There are different kinds of pirates?"

Elizabeth's eyes took on a distant look as she recalled the table at Shipwreck Cove, where the royalty of the pirate world gathered; the carefree quality of the various men that had served on the Pearl; the vicious cruelty of Jones' cursed crew. "Yes, quite different."

"What kind is Dad?"

She focused on her son and smiled, but sadly. "Courageous and loyal, but willing to take risks and sacrifice himself for his cause. There isn't another like him, and he performs his task with a selflessness and dedication that is a beautiful thing to witness."

William nodded proudly, although he couldn't truly understand the meaning of his mother's words. "What kind is Jack?"

Her smile lost all traces of sadness and a picture of Jack, peacock-proud at the helm of the Pearl, all cocksure intensity and devil-may-care abandon, came to her mind. "The very best kind. He is freedom embodied. He has his faults, but they're part of his charm. He lives for what he does and no one can do it like he does. Jack is the definition of a pirate, my love, and he knows it."

Her son – Jack's son, and every inch his father's boy – grinned his father's grin and her heart swelled.

"What kind are you, Mum?"

Startled, she stared at him. "What?"

He shrugged carelessly. "Well, if you're mixed in with pirates, Mum, you almost have to be one."

She shook her head. "We're not talking of me. Ask your father. Or Jack, but I wouldn't trust everything he says." She reached out and tapped her son on the nose. "Now, stir that stew before it's burned to the bottom of the pot, or you'll have nothing for supper and spend tomorrow scouring it clean."

William hurried to retrieve his abandoned spoon and Elizabeth returned to her sewing, her head swirling with thoughts of how two of her three men would label her.

* * *

Jack was late, but that was not an odd occurrence. He arrived two days after Elizabeth had expected him, breezing into the cottage with a flippant wave of his hand and a negligent excuse. Within the hour, the three of them had returned to the Pearl and they were sailing out onto the horizon.

Elizabeth relinquished her son's care to Gibbs and the crew. Having spent a significant amount of his life aboard ships, William was treated as one of the crew and Gibbs didn't give the boy any special treatment. As Elizabeth watched from her favourite perch, high in the crow's nest, William fumbled a knot. Gibbs snapped a command at him and he gritted his teeth and retied the knot, gaining a nod of praise from the First Mate. Although she had felt protective of her boy at first, Elizabeth realized that he was learning and growing stronger and more confident because of Gibbs' stern and steady teaching.

"Oi."

She jumped, startled. Jack's face peered up at her from the ladder below. "Move," he ordered, gesturing with both hands. She resisted the urge to tell him to hold on to the ladder; he wouldn't have heeded her, and it was a moot point, as he had perfect balance on the swaying ship. "It's a little crowded up here for two, isn't it?" she asked, moving out of his way.

He wrestled his way into the cramped space, his body tight against hers, his arms circling around to clasp her waist. "I prefer to think of it as cosy," he breathed against her neck.

She melted against him, as always, but her voice held a warning. "Jack, everyone can see us."

"They're not interested. My crew knows better than to gossip." His lips traced the highest knob of her spine, making her shiver. She laughed out loud. "Pirates are notorious gossips, Jack, and you're the worst of all."

"Human beings tend to have a natural curiosity for the doings of other human beings," he said absently, his concentration – and his mouth – on her left shoulder blade. "But then, you'll know all about curiosity, won't you, love?"

"Hi Mum!"

William's voice, dangerously close, made Elizabeth gasp. She drove a vicious elbow backwards at Jack, who, with a grunt, stumbled away from her and slipped down the hole where the ladder descended.

Elizabeth peered around the mast to see her son waving at her from his precarious perch in the rigging. "Oh, dear God," she moaned. "William, don't you dare let go of those ropes!"

Her son waved the same flippant hand as Jack had, back in the cottage. "I'm fine, Mum. I've been climbing rigging for years."

"Thankfully, I've also been doing the same." Jack's voice, tinged with irritation, issued from the hole. Elizabeth poked her face down the ladder. He was tangled in the rigging, strung up like a ham. The exasperated look on his face, paired with his trussed up limbs, sent Elizabeth into hysterics.

"It really isn't funny, Elizabeth," he said airily, fighting to extract himself from the ropes. As she continued to laugh, he freed himself from the rigging and began to descend the ladder with an injured air.

"Oh, really, Jack," Elizabeth sniggered, following him down onto the deck. "It was funny."

"It certainly wasn't necessary," he retorted, but his offended look had softened to one of wry humour. Elizabeth lifted her face to the rigging, where William swung with effortless ease. He looked at home, and she was reminded yet again that he was no longer a small child. "It was more necessary than you think," she said softly. Jack glanced back at her, perplexed.

She smiled sadly at him. "He's not a baby any more, Jack, and he's bound to start noticing the…attraction between us. He's already started asking questions about everything else." She turned her eyes back to her son.

Jack followed her gaze, pensive. "Perhaps you're right, love." He sighed, grabbing her hand and pulling her under the deck stairs. He dragged her close, plunging his hands into her hair and ravaging her mouth with a kiss that left her breathless and shaking. He slipped away with a wink. "That should tide us over until we're able to escape prying eyes."

He was gone in the blink of an eye, and she sagged to the deck, her knees turned to jelly. How did the man always manage to reduce her to a quivering mess?

* * *

The Dutchman made its usual noisy arrival the next morning and Jack ushered Elizabeth and William aboard before retreating to the Pearl. Will caught Elizabeth in a tight embrace. "I missed you last year," he murmured into her hair. She pulled away to stare at him, breathless. "I'm so sorry. I tried to - "

He placed a gentle finger against her lips. "Shh, Jack told me all about it."

Elizabeth's eyes widened. "He...he did?"

Her husband nodded. "Yes, that he got caught up in Singapore and wasn't able to return in time to bring you." He grinned cheekily at her. "I had started to wonder if you'd given up on me altogether."

She laughed nervously, her hand straying to her throat, but he turned his attention to William, greeting the boy he called his son, and she was able to get herself under control.

Will watched his son fall in alongside the Dutchman's crew, as easy as he did on the Pearl. "God's bones, but he's getting to be big," he said wistfully. His words brought the delicious memories of the kiss she had shared with Jack under the stairs and Elizabeth suppressed a shiver. "Mmm," she hummed in agreement.

"What's to become of him, I wonder?" Will mused absently, and she darted a look at him. "What do you mean?"

Her husband shrugged. "Where will his life lead him? Even those of us with the simplest of beginnings have ended up in the strangest of places, and his early life has been somewhat complicated."

She stared at him, struck by the unusual twist in his thoughts. She often fell into Jack's trap of thinking that Will was simple and carefree, but he was a damn sight more contemplative and intelligent than anyone gave him credit for. His words echoed in her head and she turned to observe her bright-eyed baby boy. Where would William's life take him? As the son of pirate royalty, could he ever claim a place in normal society? Or was he forever sentenced to the life of a rogue; something she and Will and Jack had chosen, but to which he would be condemned?

"Dad?"

William glanced across the deck at his son, who had abandoned his duties and was now perched on the deck stairs. "Yes?"

"What kind of a pirate is Mum?"

Will looked askance at Elizabeth. She smiled back at him, nodding her assent and forgetting her son's future in her interest. "She's one of a kind, son. She went from a lovely, educated noblewoman to the scourge of the Caribbean Sea in a few short years. She fights with honour and dignity and while she is no longer the delicate flower I fell in love with all those years ago, she is even more beautiful and captivating now, and I'm always grateful that she accepted my heart and gave me her own."

As Will spoke, Elizabeth felt her heart drop. Her husband had always placed her on a pedestal and up on its dizzying heights, her unspoken betrayals threatened to make her fall.

Later that night, Will drew Elizabeth to the bed and the two of them fell on the mattress, losing themselves in a love that could only be celebrated a few times a year. But even as Will's lips caressed hers, Elizabeth found, to her horror, that her body was not responding. After several minutes, Will pressed a kiss on her forehead. "Don't worry, Elizabeth. We've got plenty of time." He pulled her against him, curving himself around her body, and as he fell asleep, Elizabeth could only stare at the ceiling with wide eyes.

* * *

Will was called away to ferry souls after a week, and he kissed his wife and son before they returned to the Pearl. Elizabeth and William watched the Dutchman disappear in the flash of green light before entering Jack's cabin.

Jack joined them in the cabin. "Had a nice visit?" he asked Elizabeth as he settled into a chair. She nodded silently, then turned away to pack up the things she had brought over from the Dutchman.

William tugged at Jack's sash. "Jack?"

He gazed gravely at the boy. "What, lad?"

"What kind of a pirate is Mum?"

Jack's eyes lifted from Elizabeth's son to her, noting the sudden busy movements of her hands and the curious tilt of her head. He looked back at William. "Your mother is unrivalled in the pirate world, William," he said seriously. "She has commanded the respect of every scallywag she's crossed."

His eyes never left the boy's, but he was speaking directly to Elizabeth now. "She is devious and unscrupulous and every inch a pirate. She has captured ships and hearts the world round. She is intelligent and beautiful, a deadly combination, and she's stung a fair few of us unsuspecting fellows with her pretty face and quick mind. She led the greatest gathering of pirates into battle against the greatest foe they had ever faced and she did so with grace and bravery and skill. She's the Pirate King, lad, and you should feel honoured to have her as your mother, as we feel honoured to have her as our leader."

William's eyes were round with astonishment as he looked over at his mother, who merely clucked absently as she folded a chemise. "Really, Jack, you do go on."

William was soon asleep and Elizabeth felt an eerie sense of déjà vu as Jack pulled her towards the bed, tumbling her onto the mattress and following her closely. "I see what you meant by asking questions," he noted, unlacing the ties of her bodice. She nodded. "I had to impress upon him what a serious crime piracy was, before he went around telling everyone about the fantastic pirates he has in his life."

"And what did you tell the boy about meself? Regaled him with tales of daring feats and breathless escapes, I imagine. I hope you didn't malign me; you've a habit of that sometimes, love."

She pressed her body against his. "I told him the truth," she murmured huskily, grazing his ear with her lips. She felt his smirk against her collarbone. "Which is better than the stories, in some cases," he purred, snaking his tongue out to glide along her skin.

"Ja-aaack," she hissed, her fingers digging into his shoulder blades. His hand lifted away from its rough caress of her breast, slipping beneath her skirts and she gasped and arched against his touch.

His fingers moved faster against her and her eyelids fluttered as she tilted her head back. He leaned in to attack her throat, his hand never ceasing its motion. Suddenly she snapped taut, like a well-strung bow, against his body, her breath catching in her throat.

"Oh God, Will!"

His eyes narrowed and his fingers halted, but she had reached the pinnacle and she shook beneath him for a moment longer, until her body finally slumped against the bed. She gazed at him from under heavy lids, her eyes hazy with passion. "Oh, Jack," she murmured, and it was with a mix of relief and distrust that he heard his own name. But his pride and ego had been severely wounded, and when he got up from the bed and left the cabin without a word, Elizabeth shivered without his warmth and wondered what had turned him away.

* * *

She slipped out onto the deck on the hunt for him. He was at the helm, hands running along the spokes of the wheel, turning to his ship; the only lady that had never betrayed him. She stepped up behind him and was relieved when he didn't pull away, letting her run her hands over his chest. "Jack, what happened?"

He sighed heavily and turned in her embrace. "Elizabeth, what's the worst thing that can happen to a man in that situation?"

Her eyes widened and her face flamed and he almost laughed. Under all her pirate brashness and spitfire, she was still a prim and proper English rose. "Oh dear," she said, dropping her eyes. "Well, um…"

He frowned; she seemed more embarrassed than distressed. Suddenly it clicked. "Not _that_, Elizabeth," he said dryly. "I've never found myself in that particular situation."

She snorted, derision winning over her well-heeled discomfiture. "I'm sure."

He stared at her. "I do, however, find it somewhat disheartening when my lover happens to cry someone _else's_ name. Even if that someone else happens to be her husband."

Her hand flew to her mouth and her face flushed again, but with shame and dismay this time. For all Will had been unable to arouse her, back on the Dutchman, she had said his name when it was Jack's lips and hands that had brought her to ecstasy.

A heart divided, and while it was not evenly split, Will's hold on her had been there longer. He was familiar and reliable, and despite not being able to step on land, she had no doubt that he would move heaven and earth to get to her if she needed him. He had been her first crush, her first kiss, her first lover.

Would he be her last?

She had lately begun supplanting Jack in her visions of her married life; trading her cottage for the deck of the Pearl, her son able to name Jack as his father, the three of them sailing into the horizon for adventure and excitement. But Will was immortal and until she struck him so hard that his love for her finally shattered, he would always be in her life.

A heart divided, and it seemed that the traitorous organ would not make her choice an easy one.

"Jack," she whispered, hands reaching for him, twining into his thick dreadlocks. He sighed and reciprocated the embrace, encircling her waist. "I'm so sorry."

He sighed again. "I know, love, but it's a fearsome blow, even to someone as confident as meself."

They fell into a somewhat awkward silence, and Elizabeth stared over his shoulder out at the black water. "I always manage to make a devilish mess of things."

He chuckled, the laughter rumbling through her deliciously. "You've quite a talent for it, that's certain. Seems something you share in common with your husband." As ever, he recovered quickly from a shot to his ego.

She snorted. "I've outdone myself this time, though," she said darkly.

"Usually one is the cause of one's own sorrows," Jack said philosophically. "Excepting myself, of course."

His answer needled her for some reason, and she was reminded of a conversation she had had with Hector Barbossa, during her brief stay on the Lady's Emerald.

"_Y'know, it's always weighed heavy on me mind," the grizzled captain said solemnly. Elizabeth turned to face him. "What has?"_

"_You 'nd the whelp. Married many a frightened couple, I have, before a fight, 'nd even a few during a fight, as with the likes of ye. But ne'er has a couplin' niggled me more th'n yourn."_

_She furrowed her brow. "I didn't even know you had a conscience to be bothered," she noted, only half teasing. He threw her a mock glare. "Aye, that I do, though it not be bothered by silly things like some people be." _

_She sighed heavily. "So what are you saying, Captain? That marrying Will was a mistake?"_

_He shrugged. "P'rhaps. I won' pretend to know the future, lass, but think on this: if ye hadn't been at risk of life and limb, would ye have e'er truly gone through with it?"_

"I should never have married him," she said bluntly, despite the pang it sent through her body.

Jack offered no comfort. "Maybe not," he replied calmly. "Maybe you made a hasty decision in the face of death and did not stop to fully comprehend your true feelings."

His words echoed Barbossa's and she was struck by how similarly they thought, for all their apparent dislike of each other. But his pitiless appraisal of the situation hit harder than Barbossa's, and she buried her face in his chest with a moan. "Oh, Jack. What on earth am I going to do?"

She felt his shrug. "Take it one day at a time, love, that's all a pirate – or anyone, for that matter – can do. We haven't got more than that."

She removed her face from his vest and glared at him. "You're not making me feel better, Jack."

He shrugged again. "My wounded pride," he lamented, but one of his fathomless eyes closed in a saucy wink.

She rolled her eyes, but pulled him closer. "Well, let me see what I can do about making amends to your shattered feelings."

The rest of the night was lost in a haze of passion and Elizabeth did not falter again.

* * *

They returned to her island as night was falling and Jack escorted William and Elizabeth up to their cottage. Elizabeth paused on the doorstep as her son continued inside. "Same time next year?" she said, sounding far more brave than she felt. Jack nodded. "Give or take a few days."

"As usual." She caught his hand and pressed it to her heart.

"Jack?" William appeared at Elizabeth's elbow and she hurriedly dropped Jack's hand as he turned his attention to him. "What is it, boy?"

"What kind of a pirate do you think I'll be?"

Jack eyed Elizabeth, who had paled at her son's words, but did not change his reply. "One of the very best, I'll warrant," he said gravely. Satisfied, William grinned a goodbye at the pirate and disappeared into the cottage again.

Jack brushed Elizabeth's pallid cheek. "Be brave, my love," he said, ever so gently. As he disappeared below the sandy ridge, she was certain she could never be brave enough to face what was ahead.

* * *


End file.
